


Like I Never Said Farewell

by LazarusIsRisen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Child Abduction, Everybody Hates Snoke, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Hux is a Good Guy, I swear, M/M, Mafia/Mob Hux, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slave Kylo Ren, Slave auction, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, but it'll get better, emphasis on it getting better, eventually, general sadness, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 50,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazarusIsRisen/pseuds/LazarusIsRisen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He couldn't stop the burning as it destroyed his nerves gradually, one by one. One by one in blinding white pain until he felt nothing at all.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or,</p><p>Kylo Ren is abducted by a human trafficking ring and kept by his first master, Snoke, until he grows tired of his damaged plaything and sells him on to an accidentally-implicated and horrified Hux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags for the multitude of triggers

The bathroom light was stark and bright, making his eyes water as they tried to adjust. He gave himself a minute to let them calm down before he continued with the task at hand, dabbing at his dark eyes before pulling an eyeliner pencil out of a draw and thickly lining them. He liked the effect it had; it made his eyes stand out, made them wider, drawing attention away from what he thought were his less flattering features. His nose was still as long and prominent as it had always been, but an onlooker’s attention should be less drawn to it. Or that was what he hoped, at least. He needed to make himself pretty.

He leant further towards the mirror to double check his work before nodding to himself and neatly placing his tools back where they’d come from, and setting out to complete his daily tasks. Tidy up the minimal amount of clutter around the house, make all of the beds, ignore the phone ringing, mop anything tiled, vacuum any floor, don’t answer the phone, polish anything wooden, clean the shower, don’t you dare touch that phone, goddamnit, begin cooking, breathe in, breathe out, check the time, don’t panic, go kneel by the front door and hang your head, keep your eyes on the floor, you filthy creature. He held the awkward position perfectly, remaining completely still, regardless of how his knees hurt from the restricted blood flow and his back ached from the effort of keeping his shoulders up while pushing his arms down. But he dutifully held the position, a nagging voice in the back of his head constantly reminding him that if he relaxed at any point, He would definitely know. How He would know, he wasn’t sure, but somehow.

Eventually, his dedication was rewarded when he heard the door unlock and light streamed in as it opened, however a large amount of it was blocked by the massive, imposing figure standing in the doorway. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, having been taught to never look at his Master without first gaining His permission. He felt a shiver run down his spine as a large hand ran through his hair and gently tugged.

“Look at me, Kylo.” He lifted his eyes up to meet the piercing pale blue of his Master’s as He continued to card His fingers through Kylo’s hair. “So, my pet, have you been good today?” Kylo slowly nodded his head, still not having been given permission to talk. “We’ll see.” His hand left Kylo’s scalp as He swept past him into the kitchen, ordering him to follow behind him and get him a drink before he served him the food he expected to be ready for him. Kylo immediately did so, the usual bundle of nauseous nerves that he would never quite manage to become desensitised to building in the pit of his stomach as he carefully carried the plate and glass of wine to his Master, setting them both on the table before Him and sitting with his head bowed, at His feet.

He remained there, again perfectly still, until his Master ordered him to stand up and fetch his bowl, then stood patiently while He scraped his leftovers into the plastic dog bowl and placed it on the floor.

“See, aren't I kind to you?” Kylo nodded eagerly, the acid in his stomach uncomfortably burning due to him not having eaten since he was given Master’s scraps last night. “Thank me then.” He roughly pushed Kylo back down onto his knees and unbuttoned his fly far enough for His pet to get to work. Kylo’s movements were robotic as the rest of his brain slowed. There was no emotion in his actions, or him for that matter, other than a vague, constant sickness that washed through him as he moved his mouth and hands. Not that there needed to be a whole lot of thought behind it for long, as it only took a short while for his Master to become impatient and grab Kylo’s hair, holding his head in place as he hammered into the back of his throat for what Kylo thought felt like forever until He finished with an order to swallow and make the most of the extra calories that he was oh-so-kindly being given. He then sat back in His chair as He let Kylo ravenously attack his poor impression of a meal, with His calves and feet resting on his bare back, of course.

It didn’t take long for his Master to become bored, however, and Kylo had only been about halfway through the difficult task of eating with just his teeth and without hands or, God forbid, cutlery, when He stood up and ordered for His pet to do the same, revelling in the disappointed expression on Kylo’s face as he followed His order to throw out the rest. Hunger was better than what would happen if he didn’t obey.

“Get me another glass of wine, Pet.” The order was as sharp as usual, leaving no room for debate, and Kylo immediately stood up from his position of kneeling on the floor at his Master’s feet as he sat, relaxed on the sofa. It was quite the relief, actually; Kylo’s knees were perpetually bruised and scraped from extended periods of kneeling on hard surfaces, and he was sure that at this point he had the joints of someone at least twice his age. He couldn’t explain the bout of shaking that came over him once again, as it did periodically, but it made him glad that his Master couldn’t see the difficulty it caused him as he poured a glass of the deep red liquid and carried it out to Him. “Put it on there.” He gestured towards a small coffee table next to the sofa. Kylo should have looked, should have been more careful. If he had been more careful, he would’ve seen the leg that quickly shot out in front of him. If he had been more careful, he wouldn’t have tripped, falling to the floor and taking the glass with him.

Crimson wine mixed with thicker blood as it seeped from his hands and across the wooden floor. Kylo could hardly feel the pain in his hands, being far more focussed on the panic that was rising in his chest. He pushed back onto his knees and began frantically rubbing the side of his face into his Master’s leg while his arms wrapped around it, hot tears streaming from his eyes and stumbled apologies rushing from his mouth. His platitudes and remorse where silenced when a large hand came crashing down onto the other side of his face.

“Get off me, I don’t want to touch you, let alone your blood, you disgusting mutt. And shut up, before I make you.” Kylo sporadically tried to control his breathing, in between his sobs and racing thoughts, and managed to mostly silence himself, although “mostly” didn’t cut it. He tried to gasp as he was slammed against a wall and then pushed up it by a large hand around his throat. He didn’t dare try to pull the hand away, knowing through his oxygen-starved haze that the result of that would somehow be even worse. He was held there until his vision started to fade, at which point he was crudely dropped, landing in a heap of long limbs and wheezing. He curled up in a vain attempt to make himself seem as small as possible as his seemingly almost seven foot tall Master crouched down and loomed over him.

“I bet you think that was clever, hm?” Kylo weakly shook his head until his dark mane of hair was grabbed and sharply yanked. “Don’t lie to me, Ren. You’re only making it worse for yourself.” His unwavering voice was punctuated by a quick kick to his stomach, heightening Kylo’s wheezing and hacking. “Why would you do that? I’m good to you. Perhaps too good; maybe that’s the problem. Most people would’ve shot you by now for your insolence, you slut. But for some reason, I think I’m going to spare you again. Not that you deserve it. No, you deserve to be twenty feet deep in the river with a bullet wound in your skull, but today you’re just going to apologise, aren’t you?” Kylo nodded again, before his Master stood up and walked towards His bedroom, dragging Kylo with Him by his hair as he staggered behind Him.

He would zone out when it inevitably became too painful or the asphyxiation caused his senses to overload and malfunction, and he wouldn’t cry once. At least, not until his Master was comfortably asleep, at which point he would silently cry to distract himself from the burning pain and permanent sense of dirtiness that would resurge again and never completely leave, no matter how much time Kylo spent in the shower. He’d just lie back and think of England, and eventually it would all be over. He knew he deserved it, though. After all his Master did for him, he was still inconsiderate enough to be clumsy. His Master kept him safe, He fed him, He touched him gently when he was good and sometimes even held him afterwards, He told him He loved him. Kylo didn’t deserve Him. He deserved to be at the bottom of that river and he knew it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that the title comes from the song You Bet Right by The Strand.

If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was incompetence. Honestly, how difficult was it to just keep your emotions separate from your job?

“Oh Mr Hux, I’m sorry Mr Hux, I know I should’ve just gotten on and killed the guy but you see I couldn’t because I’m a fucking idiot.” He mocked, his voice unrealistically high and his attempt at an American accent intentionally leaving a lot to be desired. He poured himself a whiskey, slamming the liquor cupboard door harder than he probably should have, and sat down, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead roughly before coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. Why had he signed up for this? He’d only been here for six months and he already wanted to shoot himself in the head to put himself out of his misery. But no, of course he couldn’t do that; he was here for a reason and it would all be worth it in the end. It would all be worth it in the end. It would all be- fuck, he needed that drink. He necked it just as his phone started vibrating in his pocket, something that he was sure might have just pushed him over the edge if it had been anyone other than the person whose name lit up the screen.

“Phasma.” His voice, although almost as level as usual, couldn’t quite mask the exhaustion he was feeling.

“Hux. I was just wondering how today went. Successful, I assume?”

“Don’t ever assume, Phasma. Assumptions have a tendency to be incorrect.” He let his guard drop somewhat, allowing weariness to take over his tone.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. What happened?” She clearly felt just as at ease with him as he did with her, as her perfectly controlled voice fell away to reveal the tired fury underneath.

“Apparently he started crying about a wife and children and the useless bloody idiots just let him go.”

“He doesn’t even have a wife or children.”

“I know!” Hux’s grip on his glass was becoming dangerously strong as he subconsciously attempted to release his pent-up anger anywhere. “How are these people not dead yet? Surely natural selection should have done its job by now. But this is what I need to fix; years of people hiring idiots for their statures rather than people who actually have an IQ over 100. The only people I’d trust to not get themselves a Darwin award are you and maybe that guy, what was his name, began with an M? You know who I mean.”

“Mitaka. What in God’s name is a Darwin Award?”

“Thing on the internet. Awarded to people who have done the gene pool the best service by accidentally killing themselves off. Doubling the horsepower on your car without doubling the brakes, that kind of thing.” That at least seemed to draw an amused huff from the other side of the phone.

“How pleasant. There was actually another reason for me calling which might cheer you up slightly, though.”

“And what might that be? Snoke's head on a plate so I can leave this godforsaken country and go back to green and pleasant England?”

“Alas; not quite. However, we may, emphasis on may, have found an in-route into First Order. Maybe.”

* * *

 

Kylo’s body ached and his mind was stuck in a state of panic but he knew he couldn’t move. He could smell something burning in the kitchen as his work there was rendered pointless, and he knew he’d be punished for that, but the punishment for being caught out of place would be worse.

That was the most important thing he did in a day; kneel in position and wait for his Master to come home. The difference was, however, that usually he’d be home at seven PM, and it was already eight-thirty. He was okay, He had to be okay. He probably just had work to finish or something. He’d be back soon.

It wasn’t long before the door was unlocked and opened and his Master stepped through the threshold as usual. But today was different; He wasn’t alone. Kylo watched as three more pairs of feet came through the front door, all of the people attached to them remaining completely silent. They must have been important, since usually his Master as a rule kept His face hidden and detached from His name, separate from His identity for the sake of His own safety.

“If you would like to go through to the next room, first I must speak to my pet.” Kylo still didn’t raise his eyes as the three others walked away, and a hand was pushed through his hair. “Burning, Ren? I thought you would know better. Not to worry though, I’ll soon forget it, considering how good tonight is going to be. For me that is; not so much for you. Hopefully you’ll actually learn something tonight, preferably your place in life.” The nausea returned and all he wanted to do was double over and retch, possibly cut his stomach out for good measure. “Go sort it out, I’ve already eaten.” His Master swept past him and Kylo quickly jumped to his feet, ignoring the voice in his head that reminded him that this meant he wouldn’t be eating today.

He was replacing the cleaned equipment when his Master stepped behind him and pulled him into Him with an arm around his aching stomach.

“Taking your time, aren’t you? Do you find it impossible to be good, is that it? Or is it an intentional slight aimed at me?” He had to grit his teeth together forcefully to stop the whimper that threatened to escape his throat. He wanted to be good, he so wanted to be good, so why couldn’t he just do it? “And after I’ve been so kind and ignored this transgression, you spoilt brat.” Kylo wanted to sob when he felt nails bury themselves deeply in his side. “Spoilt whore of an animal.” He gasped when those nails dragged slowly across his abdomen, taking layers of skin with them. “Come on, there are people who want to meet you, and you’re going to make sure that they enjoy themselves.”

* * *

 

Kylo was finally permitted to look at the men directly after half an hour of kneeling at his Master’s feet and being ignored as though he was simply another piece of furniture. Not that he minded that; it gave him time to think and listen to what almost seemed like a normal conversation about work, albeit considering that his Master’s work wasn’t exactly a normal nine-to-five office job. He listened in to discussions of narcotics smuggling, extortion, which bankers in which merchant banks were fixing accounts on their behalf and whether they were doing it willingly or if the existence of their children was being weaponised for the sake of blackmail. If he ever needed incentive to obey and not upset his Master, this conversation was it. Not that he needed to be persuaded of course. He felt his chest tighten as he realised what he was thinking, the insinuation that he could ever possibly not obey. He couldn’t think that, it wasn’t true. Push it out of his head quickly before He found out. He changed his mind; he didn’t like having time to think.

“So finally we get to meet your pet, hm? Well he certainly is a pretty one, if a bit skinny for my taste. Though I imagine that makes him easier to handle.” This one wasn’t huge himself, slim but muscular enough that he could probably hold his own in a fight. He could certainly beat Kylo into oblivion. Felix Barrera, Kylo identified him as the one in charge of the financial aspects; the money laundering and banking, etcetera. He beckoned him with a hand gesture and after a nudge in his back from his Master’s foot Kylo crawled towards him and let himself fall limp as his chin was held and lifted and a hand ran over his ribs, falling into the dips between them. A tinge of disgust came across Barrera’s face as he felt Kylo’s spine through his skin, and as short-lived as the expression was, Kylo felt his gut twist. Ugly. He was ugly. He knew it, but he managed to ignore it most of the time. He didn’t like to be reminded of it, but he knew that what he liked didn’t matter.

One of the other men stood up and moved towards him. Lucas Weis, the drug lord. A scarred forearm thicker than Kylo’s thigh pushed his chest backwards until he was bent backwards over his own legs uncomfortably far, and hands wrapped around his waist to prove they could go all the way with inches to spare, especially if he squeezed like so. Kylo fought to keep his breathing controlled and even, even when he could feel his heart rate increasing in his neck. The third man sat back and watched intently with a raised eyebrow and a smirk so sharp it could cut stone. Leo Valle. Kylo remembered his nickname being jokingly tossed around the room; Lord High Executioner. Valle simply rolled his eyes at the title, but everyone in the room knew it was an accurate description of the clean-cut looking man in his D&G suit.

“Are we uninterested, Valle?” Asked his Master in a smooth, almost teasing tone.

“Oh, I am interested, Sir. Very much so.” He remained in his seat, cigar in one hand, drink in the other as he tilted his head and his eyes never left the scene before him. Kylo couldn’t bare to look at him any longer as the other two’s hands continued to roam across him roughly. He wanted to hide; wanted them to never touch him again. But he didn’t dare speak. If he kept silent and stayed pliant, it’d be over soon. His Master wouldn’t allow any more than this. Not His property. He’d tell them that their time was done and they’d stop, they’d leave and his Master would tell him that he was a good boy, that He loved him. He’d stroke his hair and carry him to bed and be gentle when He took him, or even better, He might just let him sleep, curled up around His arm. Not that Kylo would let himself get his hopes up that much. That was far more than he deserved.

He was abruptly jerked out of his thoughts when he felt something searing into the skin of his groin, and he couldn’t stop the small squeak of pain he made. He quickly realised his mistake when Valle’s hand harshly slapped him in the face, throwing his head and neck sideways with the force of it. A large hand crushed his windpipe and panic that he would usually be able to control took centre stage in his mind. His own bony hands flew to his throat and rabidly tried to remove the attacking force with no results other than someone else ripping his hands away and holding them above his head.

After what seemed like thirty years he was finally able to breathe again, when the hand around his neck moved to push his legs out from under him, so he was lying on his back. A weight sat on his legs, while his wrists remained in place above his head and the final pair of hands gently slid across his chest. The cigar that had burned his groin was pushed into his nipple and held in place through Kylo’s writhing for ten seconds and then thrown away and replaced by nails ghosting across his abdomen and clawing at it in equal measure. He had managed to fade out of his own mind when he was rapidly brought back to when he felt fingers run between his legs. He gasped as he tried to make sense of his skin. This shouldn’t be happening, they shouldn’t be doing this, where was his Master? He wouldn’t let them touch him like that, only He was allowed to do that. He cried out for Him, syllables become jumbled from a combination of adrenaline an fear. This seemed to spur them on as they gripped his dick roughly and stroked it before palm was replaced by sharp nails and Kylo screeched and writhed, jerking with all the strength he had to throw them off him.

“Enjoying him, I see?” Master? Kylo forced his title out between sobs. Why wasn’t he stopping them? He didn’t hear the response from the three men on top of him, but let out a wordless mewl when his Master simply turned and left, earning another slap and nails in his jaw holding his head in place.

“Why would he help you? Is it because you’ve been spoilt? A pampered little whore?” This was the executioner, his face uncomfortably close to Kylo’s own tear-streaked one. He couldn’t hold back the sobs which caused him to smirk once more and lean forward, his voice soft. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

* * *

 

Kylo lay where he’d been left, his only movements the shivering that wracked his body and his arms wrapping around his stomach as it threatened to burst out of his skin.

“So go on, you still haven’t explained why you’ve suddenly become so relaxed with how people touch your property, Snoke?” Kylo wanted them to shut up, his body aching from the memory of that voice.

“If I’m honest, he’s begun to bore me, Valle. He’s become too comfortable.” The matter-of-fact tone was another blow to Kylo’s gut. He could get better, be anything his Master wanted him to be, and he wanted to scream it until he knew.

“So what’re you gonna do with him? Shoot him?” No, no no no. He didn’t want to die. Please don’t let him die.

“Why would I kill him when someone would pay for him? He’s up for auction next week, gets him out of my hair. Find myself something new.” Scratch that; he’d rather die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still an awful person. Possibly even getting worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who got a bit more emotional than they should about Armitagegate? 'Twas I. Of course.

Hux huffed as he stepped out of the car into the cold air, flipping up the collar of his trench coat before walking around to the other side of the car and holding out his arm for the woman who stepped out as the chauffeur opened her door.

“How do I look, dear?” She asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Beautiful as ever, Phasma. It’s just a shame that I’m not into that.” She elbowed him in the ribs sharply as a sign for him to shut up.

“Remember, I’m India la Victoire, you’re Rex Kartenberg. We were invited by Alvaro Fernandez.” She said quietly, lucky to be tall enough in comparison to Hux that she only had to whisper. Hux nodded, glad for the final reminder as they approached the entrance to the large mansion.

“And you still have no idea what this actually is?”

“Not a fucking clue.” Hux rolled his eyes. He was glad that they’d found a way onto the guest list of some First Order function but it would have been incredibly useful to know what the function was before the walked through the door. But instead he’d have to be spontaneous with his lying. His father would be proud.

They finally reached the top step and were greeted by a servant-come-bouncer who checked their names off the list and gave them directions to a large hall covered in lines of chairs, chandelier hanging from the ceiling, large stage at the front of the room. Eh, still not as impressive as his own family’s estate in Kent. He supposed though that that came from First Order being a rather new venture in comparison to his family’s influence on crime and political corruption. Fifty years of plain and simple crime versus five hundred or so years of political corruption and networking, it was understandable that they still didn’t have the same influence.

He and Phasma awkwardly milled around as people filtered in, all dressed to the nines and making Hux glad that he’d not debated what Phasma had told him to wear. He had to admit that she did look rather stunning, platinum blonde hair in an up-do that probably took hours for her stylist to perfect and pale complexion exaggerated by her elegantly long silver gown. There were thousands of rich bastards who’d love to make her their trophy wife, until she slit their throat in their sleep. Certainly more of a Lady Macbeth than a Juliet Capulet.

Finally after half an hour and probably more alcohol than he should have drunk in a situation like this, the lights dimmed and a woman strolled onstage to tell everyone to take their seats before the night’s entertainment commenced. Time to find out the purpose of the evening, Hux supposed. Entertainment… Singing? Dancing? That kind of thing? Oh please not ballet, he hated ballet. It was impressive for the first five minutes but after that it made him want to stick pins in his eyes.

What he wasn’t expecting, was for a woman to be led onto the stage with a leash and to be told that the bidding would start at $10,000. What the fuck had they walked into? He grit his teeth tightly but managed to school his face into a neutral expression as Phasma dug her nails into the back of his hand, clearly as horrified as he was. They couldn’t walk out now, lest they wanted to raise suspicion, be followed and shot.

He’d hoped that the first one would be the last one, but alas, it seemed like it would never end. A stream of people, each one varying in starting price, each one described to the crowd in humiliating detail, each in different physical states. Some looked fairly well-fed while others seemed to be on the brink of death. What they all shared was a complete silence as they stared at the floor, and Hux didn’t think he’d ever see anything worse than that.

Apparently he had been wrong. Worse existed and it emerged from the side of the stage kicking and crying, being dragged by a hand in his raven black hair. By the time they reached the front of the stage, his current owner had apparently had enough of his protesting, lifting him off the floor with that same hand in his hair and used his free hand to slap him across the face with enough force to sound like a gunshot across the room.That shut him up fast, and made bile rise in Hux’s throat. Only the odd sob escaped the skeletal man as his information was read out. Nineteen. Male. 6’3. He certainly didn’t look it. 125lbs. BMI of 16. Hux could certainly believe that. A few scars almost everywhere on his body. His owner was an imposing man who Hux felt like he should recognise. The man clung to his leg, wrapping himself around it like a baby monkey on his mother’s back. He tried to push his head up into his owner’s hand, trying to be endearing enough to deserve to be kept by the devil he knew rather than the demon he didn’t, but all it earned him was another slap and an order to stop embarrassing his master. Bidding would start at $5000.

Hux looked around the room and tried to gauge the interest surrounding him. Apparently some of these vile bastards were up for a challenge. Would probably revel in breaking any semblance of a spirit the poor man had left. Hux wanted to be sick. He could be a cruel man sometimes, but this was a thousand steps too far. He watched in silence as the bids went from five grand to eight and the man on the stage became more and more panicked and desperate.

“Eighty-five hundred. Nine thousand. Ninety-five.” Hux had no idea what possessed him to raise his hand. He ignored Phasma as she looked at him as though he’d finally lost his mind. “Ten. Eleven.” Hux nodded. “Twelve. Thirteen.” Another nod. “Fourteen. Fifteen.” Another nod. “Sixteen. Sixteen? Fifteen-fifty? No? Gone to the man with the beautiful wife.” He could see Phasma hold back a gag.

It wasn’t long until the bidding ended and the hall emptied. Phasma and Hux confidently walked out of the mansion and around to a secluded side of the building where Phasma violently threw hux against the wall and held him there by his shoulders.

“What the fuck was that, Hux? What the fuck was that? You suddenly decided you quite fancy keeping a slave? Buy a human like a fucking puppy? What the fuck?” He could see that she wanted to rip his head off his shoulders and use it as a football, and he couldn’t really blame her.

“Will you get off me? And lower the volume, you’ll get us caught.” He managed to push all emotion out of his voice as usual as she grudgingly did what he told her. “No, of course not. I don’t know why I did it, I felt sorry for him. You saw him, don’t tell me that you wouldn’t want to help him. It was pitiful.” Phasma sighed and put her forehead in her hands. "Besides, what do you want me to do now? Leave him, or try and help him? Or perhaps you'd rather I contact the police, because that's a conversation that'd go well, isn't it? "No officer, I had no idea what I was walking into. Why was I there? Well, you see officer, I'm the son of an international crime boss with more blood on his hands than Colonel bloody Gadaffi, and have been sent to try and regain ground in your fair land from  _another_ criminal organisation. You see officer, they're selling more cocaine than we are, and, to be blunt, that's just not fucking cricket. What I thought was a friendly gathering I might be able to sneak into, gather some intel, maybe have a few hors d'ouvres, turned out to be a slave auction. Who would've fucking guessed." Personally I think that'd just be fucking magic, don't you?"

“Alright, alright. Go and get him, I’ll wait in the car.” She put up with far too much shit.

* * *

 

Kylo had had to be dragged backstage after the bidding had finished. He hadn’t been aware enough to remember how to walk. All he could think about was what he might have just been sold into; he could only hope it was a private home. He didn’t think he could bare it if he’d been sold to some club’s dungeon, not that he’d be there that long if he had; he knew that people only lasted six months at most in places like that. Perhaps it was some photographer, that might not be so bad, as long as it wasn’t snuff. He didn’t want to die.

He had caught a glance at the man who had bought him, but couldn’t read anything from that. All he knew was that this man wasn’t his Master.

He sat in silence as the remaining slaves were auctioned off and various other people came to to talk to his Master. He heard pieces of conversation that didn’t quite make a complete discussion.

“…Surprised he went for so much… Acting like a brat… Why I’m getting rid of him… Good luck to them…” He let himself cry now, after all; what did it matter now? What could his Master do when soon he would no longer be His? There were only so many times he could care about being slapped in the face.

Eventually it was time for him to actually change hands. The man he didn’t know shook hands with his Master and Kylo listened to them talk about him. $15000 and a leash swapped hands. A brown envelope full of paper went with the leash.

“Anything you could ever want to know about him is in there. One thing I will say now though, he’s one you have to be firm with. Give him an inch and he _will_ take a mile.” The New Man nodded in response. “So what are you actually going to use him for? I’ve only been assuming you’d be keeping him for yourself. Or perhaps your wife.” The tone in His voice didn’t display much more than a vague intrigue in what was going to become of His slave one he left His care.

“Not a bad guess though; private use. Mine mostly, although I imagine my girlfriend might like to try him at some point.” He was British. Maybe he’d end up in England. They both awkwardly nodded before finishing the deal and the New Man tried to walk away with the leash in his hand but came to a stop when Kylo didn’t move an inch.

“Follow him.” Kylo didn’t move. “I said follow him.” This time he received a sharp boot to his stomach and whimpered. He was scared, everything about him hurt, and he didn’t know this man. “A brat to the last. Go.” He sobbed as he crawled towards the New Man, unable to stand after being winded. At least he was waiting for him to catch up, but Kylo imagined that that was as far as his kindness would stretch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream at me @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr.  
> I can't get rid of that "I'm an awful person" note. I think that's a sign.


	4. Chapter 4

Hux had been considering what to do with the cowering man as they had made their way towards his car, and by the time they reached the Land Rover he had decided that he’d probably be more comfortable in the car’s large boot than sat between him and Phasma in the back seat. He slipped back into his usual spot and told the driver to drive but stop at the earliest opportunity he had.

They sat in absolute silence for the fifteen minutes it took the driver to find somewhere to stop, at which point Hux moved into the boot of the car with the shivering creature he couldn’t believe he’d just “bought”. He slipped off his suit jacket and told the other man, Kylo was his name apparently, to put it on. He seemed wary, his face that of a wild animal caught in headlights. Anything could be a trap. If he accepted kindness now, he’d probably be punished for it later. Then again, if he refused an order, he’d be punished for it anyway, so he might as well be warm.

Kylo sat silently in the corner of the boot, wrapped in the first piece of clothing he could remember being given in years, watching the other man intently. The ginger hadn’t spoken since he’d given him his jacket; instead, he'd put his head in his hands, sighed and then hardly moved. Not that Kylo had a problem with that since every twitch his new owner made caused him to flinch and hold his breath until he was certain that the man wasn’t about to reach out and wring his neck.

An hour and a half of quivering and slowly rising anxiety later, the car stopped and the man opposite Kylo seemed to wake up from his trance as the car’s tailgate was opened. Kylo’s knuckles became white from the force with which he was grasping the jacket as the other man jumped out. The awkward silence remained between the two of them, which was confusing enough for Kylo; surely this man should be dragging him out by his hair or leash? But no, he was just standing there and looking exasperated.

“Well. I suppose we better get you inside.” His voice displayed the same emotions as his face and Kylo could feel his pulse rising. It had only been an hour and a half and he had already pissed his new owner off? Christ, he was going to get it. Breathing quickened, eyes widened, his temperature rose as he soon began working himself into a shaking panic. He couldn’t be doing this in front of his new master, oh God, oh God, oh God, this was just making the inevitable infinitely worse, why couldn’t he stop it? A hand on his shoulder jerked him back to the here and now. Fuck. That hand was going to shake him until his head hurt, then slap him, scratch deep red lines into his face for this display of insolence, then it was going to help him take what was now his.

But it didn’t. The hand sat softly on his shoulder, rubbing gentle circles into it as his voice quietly rambled that he was going to be okay. After what Kylo knew was too long, he managed to regulate his breathing and his heartbeat calmed itself, but he couldn’t rid himself of the nausea or exhaustion that suddenly set in. He did as he was told, pushing himself out of the back of the car onto unstable legs and feet that were being attacked by gravel. He could do this. Get himself in, lie back and take it for half an hour before hopefully being allowed to sleep. He could do that. Take it in small chunks; first put one leg in front of the other, then the next one, then repeat. He couldn’t understand why his new master wasn’t walking ahead of him, but was instead keeping himself very close to him, something that Kylo was glad for when his weak legs failed him and he crashed to the floor.

“Take it easy, Bambi. Have you hurt yourself?” A weak shake of his head was the only response he could give as he struggled to push himself back up again, until he felt an arm slip around his back and another under his knees. He let himself fall limp as he was carried inside and placed down on a large couch, and wished this man would stop being so nice. Kylo knew the tactic. He’d be lulled into a false sense of security through gentleness and kind words. He was being given more to lose when he was inevitably fucked into a mattress.

* * *

 

Hux watched as the frail man quickly slipped into unconsciousness, clearly exhausted, and covered him in a thick woollen blanket. What had he walked himself into? He supposed that the brown envelope he’d been given might answer some of his questions, so set about pulling the wad of paper out of it and began reading.

His name was Kylo Ren, he was born on the nineteenth of November, was nineteen years old, mhm, he knew all of this so far, white, six foot three… He turned the page over and was greeted by a section entitled “Generalised Information”. How concise. _Stubborn. must be kept on a short leash to avoid challenges to authority._ This had to be old information because Hux couldn’t imagine the quivering wreck on his sofa challenging anyone’s authority. _Best to keep him in the region of 120-130lbs to avoid excess strength._ Hux would have to disagree there, considering the fact that he currently looked like Skeletor had gained ears. _Reacts very well to praise, but use it sparingly to avoid boosting his ego and causing delusions of grandeur._

That was enough of that page; onto the next. What wonderful knowledge would be waiting for him there, he wondered? He also wondered if it would be too soon to find the man who’d sold this creature to him and have someone firebomb his house, preferably with him in it. Of course it got worse though. The next page, or it seemed the next four pages, were comprised of two lists, the shorter being entitled “Likes”, the longer being “Dislikes.” What a surprise, the man didn’t enjoy being whipped or choked until he passed out. Hux got about halfway through, the list becoming increasingly graphic and horrendous as it went on, before he had to put it away. The idea that someone could do all of that to the unfortunate shell of a man that was currently curled up on his sofa made him simultaneously want to retch and rip their lungs out.

He needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please send insults to @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr.
> 
> Updates may be a bit unreliable next week as I'm going to Nordrhein-Westfalen for a week, pls don't shoot me.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Kylo a solid two minutes to begin to make sense of his surroundings after he woke up. He didn’t recognise the room he was in, the sofa he was lying on, and he only had a faint memory of the man who was sat on a pouffe with his back to him. He lay still and silent as he let the memories of, when was it? Yesterday? This afternoon? How long had he been asleep? The memories of before came back to him slowly but surely. This man was his new Master, his new Master who had physically carried him in after he collapsed rather than dragging him across the drive, and had given him his jacket when he was cold. He didn’t trust it; he was being built up before an inevitable fall. Eventually he’d get bored of playing nice and would drag him into bed kicking and screaming and Kylo couldn’t forget that, no matter how kind he’d been to him so far. This man was still a master.

Kylo hadn’t realised he’d been staring until his Master turned his head to glance at him. Oh God, he wasn’t meant to look at him without permission; he’d broken a basic rule and he’d really get it now.

“I’m sorry Sir, so sorry. It won’t happen again Sir, I didn’t realise I was doing it.” His voice wavered as his breathing became fast and shallow, but he quickly remembered to avert his eyes to the floor. He flinched when a hand touched his shoulder; this was it, and his kindness hadn’t lasted a day without Kylo screwing it up.

He waited and waited, but the hand didn’t move. It didn’t sink further down, it didn’t slap him, it didn’t close around his neck. It simply stayed put.

“What won’t happen again?” The new Master’s voice was soft but it did seem like a somewhat alien quality, as though he was usually far harsher in his manner. Kylo assessed the situation again and reasoned that he must be trying to get him to confess to the misdemeanour as part of his punishment, since he knew that punishments were for his own good, after all.

“Not asking before looking directly at my Master, Sir.” His own voice was quiet and uncomfortable as he went through his usual reaction of trying to make himself as small as possible, hopefully until he disappeared completely. Wouldn’t that be nice?

His Master didn’t speak for a while, but Kylo could feel him watching him, observing, he imagined, while he considered what would be an appropriate and effective punishment. The silence stretched on to a point where Kylo flinched when he spoke again.

“And how would your Master usually have punished you for that?” His tone almost made it sound like a statement rather than a question; slow, quiet, and monotone.

“He would, er… Might not feed me for a day or two,” he offered in response, though he knew as he said it that it wasn’t going to cut it. “Ten lashes,” he couldn’t lie, though he tried. “Fifteen,” still not quite there. “Twenty, usually twenty. Riding crop.” His voice broke as though he was fourteen again, threatening to become a sob.

“Well I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s not going to happen. Nor is anything else unpleasant.” It had taken another silence for this revelation to be said, not that Kylo believed it. He inadvertently jumped back when the man stood up from his position and turned to face him. “I imagine you’re hungry. Anything you’d like particularly? As long as it’s not too obscure I imagine I could make it for you.” Kylo couldn’t help but flick his eyes up to see whether the other man was being serious, however he averted them just as quickly, not wanting to push his luck. His voice had been just as expressive as his voice. That is to say, not at all. He realised he’d been quiet for far too long, but he honestly didn’t know what to say. “I’ll sort something out.” He said before walking out and leaving Kylo to his own thoughts.

* * *

 

Hux pullout his phone when he was a safe distance away from the room, calling possibly the only doctor he would trust with his own health and particular privacy requirements, and therefore the only one who he’d trust with his current concerns. He was as ever glad that she was one to always pick up her phone and proceeded to explain his issue in as broad a manner as possible, mentioning that he remembered that there were often complications in the process of refeeding extremely underweight individuals. She confirmed this and told him to try to avoid over-facing his new charge for now.

“I’m free at twelve tomorrow; someone will need to come and have a look at him.”

“Yeah, that works for me.” Hux rubbed his face, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. “And remember, no one hears about this. No one at all.”

“Of course Hux, I guessed as much. See you tomorrow.” She put down the phone and Hux continued towards the kitchen, deep in thought as he set about making a chicken sandwich. That wouldn’t be too much, would it? He didn’t think it would. He was still trying to process quite how harsh a life Kylo had to have been living until earlier this evening. He hadn’t been able to sleep for the thoughts that raced around his head and the anger that burned in his chest. He was glad that he’d become so practiced at maintaining an emotionless appearance, otherwise he was sure that he’d probably have terrified him even more than he already was. Not that he was angry with him at all, but Hux realised that he’d probably think he was, and anger had always brought him a beating. Hux wondered if he remembered life beforehand; eight years was a long time when you were only nineteen. Then again, perhaps that hadn’t been pleasant either. He didn’t know, and he certainly wasn’t going to bring it up yet.

He decided it would be wise to take a quick detour to his wardrobe and attempt to find something for Kylo to wear. He guessed that he could only be about an inch taller than him and considering his lack of condition Hux supposed that anything of his would drape off the man like he was a coat hanger. It’d have to do though, so Hux gathered a pair pyjamas that he hardly wore and left it at that.

He returned to his living room and quietly sat down on his pouffe, but facing Kylo this time. He pushed the plate into Kylo’s shivering hands and watched as he slowly took a few nervous bites of the sandwich, almost as if to make sure he was doing the right thing before launching into what Hux could only describe as an all-out assault on the poor sandwich. It was gone before Hux had time to blink, but now the man seemingly didn’t know quite what to do with himself or the plate he was now cradling.

“I’ll deal with that.” He gently prised it out of Kylo’s grasp and placed it on the coffee table behind him. He could just about to hear Kylo mumble his gratitude to his “Master”, a term which made Hux’s stomach churn. The silence returned and Hux let his vision blur as tiredness washed over him, although he was soon jerked out of his daze when he felt shaking hands grapple with the fly of his trousers, causing him to reflexively grab the wrists attached to those hands. His eyes focussed on Kylo’s, seeing that he was on the verge of tears, and he let go of his wrists as the man shrank back as far as was humanly possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, so sorry, Sir,” He had curled up into a protective ball, his arms covering his eyes as he choked out an apology between sobs and his tears began to flow freely. “I don’t understand what you want, Sir. I’m so sorry. Please Sir, please. I’m sorry. Please don’t tease me. Just do it. Please just do it. I’m sorry.” Hux was sure that if he heard the word sorry again he’d bash his own head in. He had no idea how to handle this quivering mess in front of him.

“Do what? Why do you think I’m teasing you?” Of course he had an inkling, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions on something so delicate and with someone clearly so delicate.

“You’re being nice to me. You haven’t fucked me yet. I-“ Kylo’s speech was interrupted by a particularly powerful sob and Hux felt like he was going to gag as his assumptions were proven correct. “I thought you might be waiting for me to do it, someone told me a while ago that sometimes Masters do that with new property as a, a test. Obedience. Please Sir, I’m sorry. I want to be good, I swear. I know I deserve it, so please just do it.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Hux warily reached out his hand and placed it on his shoulder, watching him flinch as he did it, before he began rubbing circles into his back, remembering how that had eventually calmed him down before. “Not now, not ever. You shouldn’t have to if you don’t want to. Never if you don’t want to. Why do you say you deserve it?” He could see the other man’s breathing slow again and his body relax slightly out of its self-imposed confinement, though his sobs remained fairly regular.

“What do you mean?” Kylo was currently looking at him as though he’d said he was Mother Theresa. It wasn’t an odd thing to ask, given the situation.

“I mean just that. Why do you think you deserve that? No one deserves that, Kylo.”

“Well, I… It’s all I can really do. I fuck everything up, and when I fuck things up I need to pay for it. I’m a slut. I’m hideous and I should be glad that anyone wants to look at me at all, let alone touch me. If I can’t be fucked then I’m worthless and may as well be at the bottom of a river with a bullet in my head.” Hux could tell that they weren’t his words, though he obviously believed them completely.

“That’s not true at all, I promise you. I’m not going to hurt you. No one is anymore. I’m going to look after you, okay? Okay.” Hux was astonished at how soft he was actually managing to be. It wasn’t something he did often, maybe even ever. He usually wasn’t one for sentimentality, but this shivering little animal was just so pitiful that he found he felt as though he himself was being punched in the gut every time he sobbed.

Hux ran his fingers through Kylo’s long hair, twisting and twirling it into spirals as Kylo’s sobbing slowly ceased, and continued since it seemed to calm him down quite effectively.

“I found some clothes for you. They’re going to be too big, but it’s all I’ve got for now.” He passed him the pyjamas and turned his head away as Kylo fumbled into the trousers, trying to afford him some semblance of modesty. When he turned his head back, he could see that he was struggling to get one of his arms into the shirt, cringing in pain when he tried to lift the limb over his head. “Does that hurt?” He got a small nod in response and leant forwards to help him into the shirt. “A doctor is coming to see you tomorrow. We just need to make sure that there’s no underlying problem with your health. For now, however, go back to sleep. You’ll feel better for it.”

Kylo nodded again, clearly exhausted as he slipped back down onto his side and, for reasons unbeknownst to himself, Hux had an urge to continue stroking his hair. Why not, Kylo clearly enjoyed the soft contact and Hux reckoned he deserved something gentle for once in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been brought to you courtesy of MSI's Pink and The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.  
> Come and shout at me @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr


	6. Chapter 6

Disliking visits to and from doctors is not that strange an issue; many children and even adults detest them, and some will put off making an appointment until it is impossible to not go. That is relatively normal. What is not relatively normal is being frozen solid with fear at the mere sight of a stethoscope. Kylo was definitely within the boundaries of the latter; he possibly didn’t actually hear Hux when he mentioned the visit the previous night as, judging by the reaction he was displaying now, Hux reckoned that he probably would have had a far more extreme reaction than a simple, calm nod. As soon as Hux had ushered Dr Kanata through the door Kylo had begun shaking. Not small shaking either; possibly measuring a four or five on the Richter Scale sort of shaking. He hunched over, wrapping his arms around his folded legs in another failing attempt to shrink himself down to a less noticeable size as the doctor quietly approached him.

Hux moved back to his previous position on the sofa next to Kylo in the hopes that if he continued to rub circles into his back he may calm down just a bit, and it did seem to work slightly as Kylo’s breathing became slightly less irregular although he still remained in his tight ball.

“Kylo, this is Dr Kanata. She’s here because you need to be… checked over. Just to make sure that anything that needs treating is treated, okay?” He got a series of small but fast nods, and he uncoiled just slightly, though the shaking continued unhindered. He moved his arm so it was around the shivering wreck’s shoulders and pulled him the short distance into his chest, then turning his attention back to the doctor. “What I’m quite certain about is that he’s malnourished. Other than that, I’m not sure. He’s got a lot of scars, but I don’t know if that’s a problem, per se. I think they’ve pretty much all healed now.”. The doctor nodded slowly as she sat down on the pouffe in front of Kylo and placed a gentle hand on his knee, causing him to flinch.

“I just need to check a few things, Kylo. Is that alright?” He nodded although his eyes were glued to the floor and his back was pressed up against Hux’s warm chest, the latter being rather surprising as he was still very wary of Hux. He must really detest this if Hux was the better option by this much of a margin.

Dr Kanata started at his head and worked down, explaining everything as she did it in what was probably the most soothing voice that she could manage.

“And I need to get an idea as to whether or not you may be anaemic, as I don’t really want to do a blood test unless I think I have to.” She lifted up his left hand and inspected his nail beds before slowly lifting her hand to his face and carefully pulling down his bottom eyelid, however regardless of how careful she was, Hux could still see his nails digging into his thighs in a way which must have been painful. He lightly moved his hand up and down Kylo’s shoulder in a vague attempt to comfort him. “Looks like you probably are, and it’s better to be safe than sorry so you’ll need some iron supplements.” She stood up and pushed the pouffe back slightly. “Now I need you to stand up for me.” Kylo’s eyes shot up, face that was semi-permanently stained with worry becoming slightly more so, before glancing to Hux who smiled at him and nodded, hoping that would encourage him. Kylo bit his lip sharply and slowly attempted to stand, although his legs still weren’t completely stable. Hux felt his stomach drop when he saw them threaten to give way again; how could someone do this to someone else? Admittedly he was no angel but this was prolonged torture for the benefit of watching it and the resulting decline. Sadism for sadism’s sake.

Dr Kanata told him to walk to the other side of the room and back again, a task which he could just about manage although he shook the whole way and had a slight, almost unnoticeable limp. He was weighed and found to be as underweight as Hux had been told, height measured, reflexes checked. He was in surprisingly good condition, all considered. Kylo seemed to be gradually calming down as the review went on, if with a slight bump in the road where the doctor asked him to remove his shirt so she could check his breathing and found that one of his ribs had at some point been broken and then healed incorrectly, at which point he had gripped onto Hux’s arm for dear life. He wasn’t a huge fan of the blood pressure monitor either, but then again, Hux couldn’t imagine it was anyone’s favourite thing. All in all though, he was doing incredibly well.

Until the needles arrived, that is. As soon as Kylo caught sight of the pre-prepared vaccination needles he’d caught the first train into meltdown town. Hux could see his breathing become erratic and his eyes become hazy. The shaking that had almost become non-existent was now back with a vengeance as he collapsed onto the floor and wrapped his arms around Hux’s leg, attempting to bury his face in it and muffling the never-ending stream of sobbed apologies and honourifics. The doctor tilted her head towards the door and Hux nodded, waiting for her to leave before crouching down next to the wreck at his feet.

Hux pulled him onto his lap and held him tightly against his chest with one arm, the other carding through his hair, until ten minutes had elapsed and Kylo had grown quiet other than the odd sob.

“You’re okay, hm? It’s alright. Sh, it’s alright.” Hux gently pressed his lips to Kylo’s hair. “What’s the matter?” All Hux got as a response was a choked attempt at words and what felt like a knife to his gut. When did he become this soft? His father would positively disown him. “Don’t worry if you can’t; I want to help rather than make it worse.” This elicited a barely noticeable shake of Kylo’s head before he slowly and carefully made himself speak.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Please, I-“ He kept his face against Hux’s chest as he spoke and Hux suddenly realised how odd a voice that low sounded coming out of a body that weighed less than it should have when it was twelve. Kylo’s voice was level for the first time since Hux had met him and he had to admit that it sounded odd, particularly considering the content of his words. “I won’t be difficult, I swear, Sir.” His raised an eyebrow as he looked down at him.

“You need vaccinations; you should have had your meningitis vaccine done when you were twelve. Would that be ok? It might hurt a bit, and your arm will probably ache, but it won’t be bad.” Hux felt him pull away slightly, enough for him to look up at him with confused eyes. “What did you think I was planning on doing?”

Kylo had no idea what to say to this. He could feel panic rising up again in his throat as he thought about exactly what it was that he thought Hux had been planning. Images flashed in front of his eyes like lights out of train windows on a dark night. A screen, pre-recorded information. Flailing limbs in a doctor’s office, pinned with restraints. Present threats for closed eyes and pleasant ignorance. Attention forced. Closer, face in focus. Eyes, needles, screams he didn’t think would ever stop, gunshot, silence. Message received and understood.

He buried his face back into his new Master’s chest; it was the safest thing for miles.

* * *

 

Light streamed in through the window, surprisingly light for a October morning. The scent of bacon cooking gently filtered into the room and everything felt as it usually did, minus a sinking feeling in her gut that she couldn’t quite place as she pushed herself up. She reached a fumbling hand out to grab her phone from the bedside table and blinked as it lit up in front of her unadjusted eyes. She waited until she could clearly read the screen and pulled the charger out so she could see the date, staring at it for a while before its relevance clicked into place in her mind. That’d explain the nausea.

She pushed her face into her hand and sighed, allowing herself a moment to think before forcing herself out of bed and shuffling about getting ready. Down the stairs, greet her father before going about her normal day in a state of half-unconsciousness.

She wouldn’t normally skip her university lectures but today, she reasoned, there was no point going to learn nothing. She may as well go and do what she had to do today early, comfortably avoiding the rest of her family in their inevitable states.

“Miss Skywalker, it’s been a while since you last came here, hasn’t it? To what do I owe this pleasure?” She did always think that the priest was a little too friendly with her, because of his relationship with her uncle, she reasoned, not that she usually minded. Today however, she wasn’t in the mood.

“The date, Father. It’s been eight years as of today.” She saw him recoil and deflate slightly as she said this, him of course understanding what she meant immediately.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. But I’m always here if you ever need to talk to anyone.” She thanked him as he returned to whatever it was he’d been doing before she entered and she went to sit in a pew with her head bowed. She wasn’t even particularly religious, let alone Catholic, but she’d always been dragged here as a child. Her aunt and uncle would bring her here every Sunday to give her father some time to himself and his meditation, and she would be ridiculously bored, so her and her cousin Ben would spend their time making up whispered stories to tell each other.

She tried to remember some of them. Priest Lando was using the church as a cover for being a Bugsy Malone gangster, that woman in front had over three hundred cats all named Belinda, Uncle Han and Uncle Chewie were secretly FBI agents on a mission. She couldn’t help but smile slightly at the reminder of childish innocence, but that warmth was quickly replaced by a sickness deep in her stomach. It had all ended far too suddenly. One day he was there, the next he’d never come home from school. She should have been walking with him, but she’d been trying to distance herself from him to avoid the other new middleschoolers realising that she was related to the weird kid with the nose and the ears. She’d left him to get home by himself and she’d never regret anything more than that moment of vanity.

Rey sighed as she stood, thinking that it was probably time to be done here after having glanced at her watch and realised that she’d spent over an hour in a daze. She lit him a candle before she left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know this. It is currently 00:12. I have to be out of the house at 04:15 to catch a flight home. I can't decide whether this is being productive or procrastination at this point.
> 
> Always open for mad ravings @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr. Also always open for shameless-self promotion.


	7. Chapter 7

Phasma was unsurprisingly still not over it. Hux certainly wasn’t himself though, so who was he to judge? They sat in almost silence for the first five minutes of their encounter, both considering what to say while feigning a great attention to their respective cups of tea, Phasma stealing surreptitious glances across to Ren who was engaging in his usual behaviour when in front of other people of making himself as small as possible and trying to shrink into Hux’s chest. He knew she could see him, regardless of how he tried to pretend he didn’t exist.

“So… Updates, I suppose. Well, Mitaka thinks that we may have caught one of First Order’s smugglers. Possibly.” She attempted to ignore the elephant in the room as she uncharacteristically stumbled through her sentences.

“Possibly?”

“Well, it’s unsure as to how exactly he came into our control; some are saying that he defected of his own accord, but it’s unclear. We’re going to be asking him some questions, obviously. See what he knows.” She paused for a beat, gradually returning to her usual rhythm. “Have you heard anything of importance from across the pond?”

“Brendol reacted as we expected to our… Earlier loss. The imaginary wife and children business.”

“What did he say?” She asked, offering him as much of a sympathetic expression as she dared.

“That it’s my fault, of course. As if I personally did it. Not like I expected anything else of course.” Weak-willed and an ineffective disappointment were the specific words that had been used, not that he was in the mood to divulge that right now. Or ever, really. “But that’s besides the point. Everything appears to be going swimmingly in Britain, as ever. And now we’ve gotten that out of the way, lets forget that we ever tried to pretend that this meeting’s purpose is entirely professional. What’s the matter?”

Kylo wasn’t sure what to think of this woman. She seemed wary of him, which was an entirely new experience for him, although he was sure it wasn’t to do with him being any form of intimidating. His existence seemed to intrigue and horrify her in equal measure, though he supposed that the horror was more of the piteous variety than the hideous. But she had only been kind to him so far, and his Master seemed to like her, so she had to be alright. This Master either honestly didn’t intend to hurt him, or was an unbelievably good actor. Or perhaps that was just what he hoped.

* * *

 

Good coffee has a miraculous way of making any day at least slightly better, and Rey had perfected the art of blocking out everything other than the life-giving liquid via the equal magic of headphones and loud music. When the sunlight outside began to dim and was replaced by the artificial variety, she knew that she should probably head home. She mentally cursed the winter for making it already pitch black by 7PM. She forced herself out of her comfortable seat and slung her bag over her back before leaving the warmth of the coffee shop into the outside that made her breathe in sharply with it’s lack of said warmth.

It was far too late, she should have paid attention to the time. Not that it mattered now; she’d just have to take a few shortcuts on the way home. A back-alley here and there, nothing that she hadn’t done before.

Rey cut into one alley, headphones still in her ears gently deafening her; a bad habit of hers that she could never quite stop, no matter what her father constantly told her. She pulled out her iPod, suddenly becoming bored with the current song but of course now was the moment to be clumsy. She yelped in pain as the headphones yanked at her ears and she rolled her eyes as she bent over to pick it up.

She couldn’t breathe past her heart that was apparently wedged in her throat. A hand was on her back.

“And what’s a lovely thing like you doing out here so late?” Oh God, she could feel the bile rising in her stomach, could almost taste it. She was pushed back up and shoved against the wall of the warehouse that made the side of the alley.

“Get the fuck off me!” She screeched, getting ahold of herself again and remembering that her knee should be going straight between his thighs and then she should be aiming for his eyes. He grunted as she struck him, falling back, but managed to catch her foot with his leg and drag her down with him. He rolled and dragged her underneath him and she remembered that she should be screaming. Had to attract attention to herself as she continued kicking and scratching the stranger’s face. She felt her stomach dare to rise again with hope when she heard the pounding of another pair of feet enter the alley and the weight on her back was removed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She heard a fist crack against bone and scrambled to get back on her feet and run, but was paralysed when she managed to see her rescuer. They certainly weren’t what she expected. A man just as rough as her attacker was nowhere to be seen, and in his place was a woman who looked as terrifying as she was beautiful. “That’s it, run away. Prick.” The amazon called after him as he beat his escape before her face fell from furious to calm and she knelt down next to Rey, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You alright?”

Rey managed to nod shakily, the woman biting her lip with a concerned expression.

“Did he injure you?” Her head shook. “My name’s… Well, call me Phasma, everyone else does.”

“Rey. Rey Skywalker.”

* * *

 

Hux carefully closed the door behind him, wary of it slamming and scaring Kylo, who was inevitably hiding somewhere. He’d managed a week of not having to leave him alone in the house but eventually, of course, he had business to attend to. A particular politician wasn’t pulling his weight and needed his memory jogged regarding his family and his responsibilities, and unfortunately only Hux had enough power behind him and presence to actually do it successfully. He’d fought at first, of course. Had a few choice reminders for Hux himself, but he’d soon been shown that yes, he could do this just as well as his father.

He frowned as he looked around him. Something seemed different, but he couldn’t quite place it. Maybe he was just suddenly unused to not having Kylo attached to him at the hip and cowering every time he blinked.

“Kylo?” No response. “Kylo?” His brow furrowed as he looked around again before shrugging his shoulders and deciding to go looking for him.

He only made it as far as the staircase when his attention was drawn to a slight movement from behind the ornate centrepiece.

“Kylo? Hey, come here.” He approached him slowly, suddenly becoming wary of the boy’s mood. Surely he couldn’t already be cowering in a corner; he’d only been home for two minutes. Alas, however, it looked like that was indeed what he was doing. The thin man nervously crept out of his hiding spot, badly concealing a shake in his wrist. “What’s wrong?” Kylo’s breathing sped up as he went into what Hux was beginning to recognise as one of his panic attacks, and was guided to the steps with a sturdy hand on his shoulders. It was a short one this time, in comparison to previous ones Hux had seen him have in the last week alone, but he still seemed absolutely exhausted once the adrenaline had dissipated and the stream of apologies went with it. His head fell onto Hux’s shoulder as an arm was wrapped around him.

“Door. Should’ve been at the door. Didn’t know what time.” Hux wouldn’t pretend to understand what he was talking about; he could only assume that it was some other bizarre ritual he’d had to do previously, another excuse for punishment. As if that man had needed an excuse. They sat silently on the stairs with Hux holding him tightly for far longer than they probably should have, but Kylo seemed to relax into it and Hux was loathe to break away from that. But of course it had to end.

Hux rolled his eyes as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Perfect timing. He’d probably just ignore it; it couldn’t be that important- Scratch that, he couldn’t postpone this. A happy medium, however, was putting the phone on speaker and talking to his father while Kylo remained as silent as he had been. That would do.

“Brendol. Lovely to speak to you again.” He lied through his teeth. He’d give his left leg to never have to speak to this man again.

“Armitage.” He felt Kylo jerk his head up to look at him, reminding him that he hadn’t actually yet told him his first name. “I wish I could say that the feeling is mutual, but of course it isn’t.” A list of his failings was sure to follow and, try as he might, Hux couldn’t tune the spoon-fed humiliation out. If he was expected to reply and only managed to do so through a positive-sounding hum, his father might just catch the next flight from Heathrow to JFK purely to tell him he’d been removed from his will and then strangle him. How very dignified. As usual though, he could only take so much insulting before he talked back, angering his father more.

“Sir, I must say that your judgement is incorrect on this particular matter. I neither took part in the… Mishap, nor hired the people that did. I understand that it was a great loss, and that this understandably angers you, Sir, but I think you’ll find that in this instance, the blame lies not with me but with my predecessor and those who he hired.”

“Insolence will get you nowhere, Armitage. You are currently in charge of that sector of operations and therefore the blame lies with you.” Hux let his head fall back with defeat as his frustration washed over him and he suddenly became very aware of the third party listening to this from on his lap. He didn’t know whether he should feel more embarrassed or intrigued as to how Kylo would react to his verbal thrashing. “Perhaps this uselessness is intentional. Being an accident yourself, I suppose it’s almost ironic that everything you touch seems to become as much of a mistake.” Hux felt his eye twitch as his stomach felt the usual spears of indignation stab through him. “It’s times like this that I question my decision to allow you to keep my name.” An image of his father’s sneer came to his mind. Weak-willed. Constant knowledge of his lack of physical similarity to his father, and complete similarity to his mother. No one really loved whores and they don’t really love their clients, of course not. Quick flings in Irish ports were never meant to last so long. His step-mother’s eternal distaste for the reminder of her husband’s infidelity. He could never really blame her.

“Sorry, Sir. My mistake.” He pulled Kylo tightly into his torso and returned to petting him like an oversized dog. He had to admit that he made a great distraction.

Finally the call ended and Hux couldn’t stop the deep sigh that escaped as he let his chin gently rest on the crown of Kylo’s head. Hux jolted slightly when he felt bony but warm arms warily wrap around his abdomen and heard Kylo speak for what was probably the first time without being prompted. A breakthrough, even if he could only just about manage a whisper.

“He’s wrong. He’s… He’s wrong.” Hux didn’t push for any more, nor did he question when the arms around his waist became slightly tighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmu @lazarus-is-rizen on tumblr for some top quality banter m9


	8. Chapter 8

Phasma had no idea what she was doing. She’d done her job and gotten rid of the guy, she should’ve left it at that. Maybe helped the girl home, but certainly should not have stayed past that. And yet here she was, sat on the edge of her bed with her phone in one hand and a quickly jotted number in the other, a reminder of how it felt to be fourteen again. What if she was thought to be overstepping boundaries? Of course she wouldn’t be; Rey had given her the number. Unprompted. And if it really did seem to be a mistake, then she could just pretend that she was calling solely to check her welfare. But did she really have time for this, what with work and all? Ha, “work”. Like she had a normal nine-to-five. She was feared by those who knew her and her position’s significance, but most other people; she wasn’t sure how they'd react. It wasn’t like she regularly interacted with them. But that was besides the point, she was procrastinating; Hux would love it if she finally gained some semblance of a social life, so what was she worrying about? Absolutely nothing. So she should just suck it up and get on with it.

“Hello, is that Rey Skywalker?” She was practiced at hiding her nerves in many other situations; she could do so just fine in this one.

“No sorry, this is her father. May I ask who this is?” She was trying to be calm, goddamnit.

“She knows me as Phasma, I helped her home the other day. I just wanted to check that she was doing okay?” She heard a hum of recognition from the other end of the line and released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in.

“Ahh yes, I wanted to thank you for that. She’s just catching up on a lecture that she missed; give me a second and I’ll go and get her for you.” Lecture? University. That was good, she must be at least somewhat ambitious, which was always attractive.

“Heya, how you doing?” Came a chirpy voice. Was she excited to speak to her? It sounded like she might be.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

* * *

 

Hux was still trying to spend as much of his time as possible at home, not that he hadn’t spent most of his time behind a desk before. He was not designed to be out in the field. He kept up appearances most of the time, going to various galas that he couldn’t bring himself to care less about, turning up to help with the odd job to keep his stress levels down. But most of his time at the moment was spent sat in his office signing forms, making phone calls and typing up emails, except now he did it all with a skinny mop of black hair resting on his knee.

Kylo had started nervously creeping in when Hux was working, his hand shaking out of habit and nerves, and silently sitting in the corner with his neck bent, trying to hide the fleeting glances he was making towards Hux. Eventually, after three days of this, Hux called him towards him one evening. Kylo stood in front of his desk looking like a child about to be caned by their teacher.

“No, no, around here. It’s okay.” He shuffled around so he was stood next to Hux, his eyes widening when he leaned forwards and wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer. His other arm moved to behind his knees, lifting him onto his lap. He was still far too underweight, but he was certainly heavier than a month ago. He didn’t suit being skinny, what with his broad shoulders and wide chest; he reckoned that Kylo could easily have been incredibly physically intimidating, had he been fed. Hux held him against his chest with an arm around his abdomen, his right hand still free enough to write and type. He directed the odd glance towards Kylo’s face and could see him relax into the contact, then his eyes fluttered shut and his forehead came to rest on Hux’s shoulder. His hand seemed to have developed a new reflex; it was moving towards Kylo’s hair of its own accord.

Hux had no idea what to do with him. Honestly, he knew nothing about him. He could assume that somewhere this boy had a family that either were desperately looking for him, had accepted him for dead, or knew exactly where he’d gone and had made a pretty penny from it. He could also safely assume that his real name wasn’t Kylo Ren. Firstly, who was called Kylo? Secondly, it would make far more sense to rename him, in case of police intervention, or recognition from some missing persons bulletin from God only knows how long ago. He didn’t know if finding his family was the right thing to do and even if it was, he would have no idea where to start. The best he supposed he could do would be to look after him; try to make him happy. Phasma would probably give him a sharp whack around the back of his head but he reckoned it was the right thing to do.

The hand was removed from Kylo’s hair to hold something in place while Hux signed something, but this was met by a tiny mewl and wide eyes looking up at him and the hand was soon replaced. Kylo smiled contentedly and closed his eyes again. He liked this, he really did. This was all he could remember ever wanting; a Master who held him and petted him gently and looked after him, and he would have done almost anything for that. He’d tried so hard for so long, desperate for any scrap of affection that his Old Master had thrown out for him to scavenge for, a needle in a haystack of abuse. And yet here he didn’t even have to let his Master hurt him first.

“Thank you, Sir.” It wasn’t much more than a mumble, really, but saying it at all made his heart leap into his throat. The hand in his hair continued moving steadily as ever and his Master continued to read the paper in front of him, which Kylo appreciated more than he would any form of scrutiny.

“Hmm? What for?” His voice was soft, patient. He didn’t slap him when he didn’t answer immediately. That was nice.

“For… For being nice to me. And not shouting at me. And the food, and I really like it when you stroke my hair, Sir.” His voice was shaky, though whether that was more due to nerves or lack of use was anyone’s guess. His Master was looking at him now, but he wasn’t staring; his eyes were soft and encouraging and made something in the bottom of his stomach heat up to just below uncomfortable. Where was he going with this? He had to even the score again somehow, give something back before his Master thought him ungrateful. “I- I’m not good at a lot of things, Sir, but I can,” his voice was still uncertain and nervous as he shifted himself slightly closer to Hux’s knees and held his hand as close as he could to his Master’s crotch as he possibly could without actually touching. “If that’s what you’d like, Sir.” A hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled it away.

“Kylo, you don’t have to do that.” He didn’t understand why Hux did that when soon enough, Kylo could see his suit trousers tightening. Hux seemed to want him to do it, but he was saying the opposite. Confusing. “You don’t ever have to do anything like that. I know that probably seems strange,”

“But you want it.”

“No, I- Well. It doesn’t matter, Kylo. That’s my point. It doesn’t matter what anyone else wants, if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, okay? Someone says no, it should be over.”

“But I do want to. I want to thank you, I want to make you happy, Master.”

“You don’t know what you want, Kylo.” He could feel his leg begin to bounce. This was irritating Master, the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. He didn’t understand this, he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand. He just wanted to be good, make his Master happy and he still couldn’t do that, not even when his Master was so good to him. He didn’t deserve him, he deserved to be in a black bag at the bottom of the river with needles in his eyes. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, he always fucked things up. A hand held the back of his head and pulled it underneath Master’s chin. “Please don’t cry, it’s alright. It’s alright.” He bit it back and tried to control himself again. Master didn’t like it when he cried; it made him sad, angry but he never hit him for it. Definitely angry though. “You can sleep in my bed if that would make it better. If you want to be close to someone, I could do that.” It wasn’t meant to be about what he wanted though, it was meant to be about what Master wanted. Making Master happy. He did’t care as long as that was the final result. Maybe this would do it, and it did sound nice. He was so lonely at night, when it was just him and his memories of what used to happen when he was taken upstairs, the realisation that after eight years of never spending the night alone he hated the cold. He nodded slowly.

Hux carried Kylo upstairs and gently placed him on the bed, touching affectionate lips to his forehead before promising that he wouldn’t be long. He locked the bathroom door and stripped down until he was shirtless, placing his hand either side of the sink and leaning towards the mirror. He stayed stock still for what seemed like weeks before becoming frantic in his efforts to cover his face in freezing cold water in a vain attempt to get energy out of his system. He was furious with himself for reacting to the boy’s hand, furious for spurring the poor thing on. He’d be lying if he tried to deny his attraction to him; he was beautiful, and Hux knew that he could easily break through the defences of the somehow simultaneously innocent and damaged man. And that those defences were exactly why he needed to avoid reinforcing things that had happened to him. He didn’t know what he wanted and Hux wouldn’t let himself hurt him further through complacency or the heat of the moment. 

He forced himself to regain his confident stride as he returned to his room, wearing pyjama trousers although still shirtless. It was far too hot in this goddamn country. Ren had changed and was awkwardly stood next to the bed with a pile of folded clothes in his arms as he waited.

“Just put that on the chair, then come on. You take the right side.” Kylo looked like a six year old who had just been told that Santa was coming early that year, and Hux had to admit that it made him feel warmth that wasn’t just due to America’s constantly ridiculous temperature.

It was nice having someone with him when he couldn’t fall asleep. Not that he’d let him know that he was still awake, not if pretending to be unconscious meant Kylo wrapping his arm around him and pulling his back flush against his stomach as he slipped away into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, pls come scream into the void @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr
> 
> I will admit to having had quite the mental block while writing this chapter so I may return to edit it into oblivion at some point.
> 
> Also, if anyone needs something cute and absolutely perfect, go check out @tiny-kylo-ren on tumblr; I'm currently living my life vicariously through Tiny Kylo and Tiny Hux


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's [dress](https://uk.burberry.com/meshmacrame-lace-shift-dress-p40231691) because hey, why not.  
> And if you need proof that a children's animation about bunny rabbits can be somewhat horrifying, then [look no further](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzirfrSn_KQ). Proper screwed me up as a child.

Rey had to admit that her relationship with Phasma was going rather fast; they’d known each other for what, two months? Two months and they were practically inseparable. Whenever Rey had free time from her lectures, and Phasma had free time from her job, they could be found together, fingers intertwined and a broad, beaming smile on Rey’s face.

Speaking of her job, Rey reckoned that it was her admiration blinding her, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care that some of the things her girlfriend did were questionable; her thought process went along the lines of Phasma being reasonable and with common sense to spare, so she must have her reasons for doing what she did. Though she wished she would talk more about it, or about herself in general. It had taken a month to persuade her to even tell her her real name, though she had to admit that had she been named Persia Aston, she’d probably go by a pseudonym as well. It did sound pretty ridiculous, and simultaneously the poshest thing she’d ever heard.

She wondered what her family was like; she didn’t think she could recall her mentioning them once. The only people she did seem to mention, she knew through her job. One name stuck out to her though; "Hux". The man was only ever referred to as Hux, his first name had never been said. She was intrigued by the person Phasma had nicknamed her "regional manager" and the fact that, going off what she’d been told, he sounded far too pleasant to have reached such a level in the hierarchy of what was effectively an international mafia family. Though maybe that was simply her girlfriend shielding her.

Two months in, and Phasma had met Rey’s father, though Rey supposed there was going to be no real “meet the family” situation with Phasma, since they were never mentioned, and she wasn’t going to push it since she had no idea what territory she would be straying into. The gala that she was apparently being taken to as Phasma’s plus one would be the closest she’d get for at least a while, she imagined, particularly since this Hux character was apparently going to be there.

She’s been dragged through God-only-knows how many stores that she’d never even dreamt of stepping foot in on the hunt for something appropriate to wear, Rey finally being persuaded to let her girlfriend spend a ridiculous amount on a Burberry dress for her. She swore she’d pay her back gradually, but apparently Phasma was having none of it, brushing her off with a wave of her hand and a kiss to her forehead. She had to admit that it was beautiful; black and white lace with a high neck that reached mid-calf and accentuated her slim figure. It did look pretty damn good on her, she would concede that, but whether it was worth the nigh-on $1500 price tag was questionable.

She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious from the moment they stepped out of the car. She wasn’t used to any of this and had no idea how to stand, how to talk to people, what to say… She fell into standing just behind Phasma and keeping quiet until she was pulled forwards by an arm around her waist.

After one particular encounter with a just over middle aged lech of a man, she needed a break, and broke away from her partner in search of a bathroom to fix her makeup and have a much-needed breather. She was still in a daze of her own thoughts when she made her way back that she failed to notice the man whose back she managed to walk straight into. Yes he was slim, but he was also at least six foot tall and topped off by a vibrant shock of red hair, so she had no real excuse to have missed the flaming beacon in front of her. Her embarrassment was somehow made even worse when he turned around and she soon discovered that she had made him spill the glass of Prosecco he had been holding, some of it hitting his inevitably incredibly expensive suit trousers and waistcoat on its way down. Her hands flew to cover her mouth but couldn’t hide the horror in her eyes as she saw the damage her absentmindedness had caused.

Apologies flew from her mouth in a flurry as the man stood there in wide-eyed shock for ten seconds, although a slight smirk made his lips quirk lopsidedly when a hand came to rest on Rey’s shoulder. She quickly jerked her neck around in a panic which was soon abated when she saw Phasma’s face and affectionate eyes looking down at her from her eight inch vantage point.

“I see you’ve met my boss. Hux, this is my girlfriend Rey, Rey, this is my regional manager Hux.” If an axe-murderer burst in with a gun at that moment, Rey would happily have offered herself as a sacrifice if it meant her self-induced embarrassment would end. The man, Hux, extended a hand to her and it took her a moment to realise that he expected her to shake it. This just kept getting worse, didn’t it?

“The woman, the myth, the legend. I’ve heard a lot about you, Rey.” His smile was infectious, but of a practiced kind. He exuded a trained yet magnetic suavity, but with an edge that reminded her of a grinning Cheshire Cat. He looked like he could, and would, eat her alive, and she had just gotten Prosecco down his suit.

* * *

Kylo looked up from the book he’d been reading when he heard a car pull into the drive, and placed it down on the sofa when he stood up and moved to sit on the marble staircase that faced the front door when he remembered that it was probably his Master, returned from whatever function he’d gone to that evening. Kylo hated it when he had to be gone at night; it detracted from his time with Master.

As soon as he stepped through the door, Kylo bound towards him and pushed his forehead into Hux’s shoulder, immediately being met with a hand ruffling his hair.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, hm? It was positively awful. I do so love having to keep up appearances.” Kylo stepped back to let him take off his coat and shoes, watching intently as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “And yet somehow I’m still not tired. Possibly the alcohol’s fault. I know I shouldn’t, but I lost count. They’re bloody sneaky; you can be having a conversation and get handed a glass of Prosecco, or Champagne, I can’t remember which it was they were giving out, and you drink it without even thinking. Then they’re straight on it, and before you know it there’s another glass in your hand.” He certainly seemed very talkative, but Kylo supposed that as he was saying, alcohol could do that to a person. It was quite nice, to be honest, hearing his Master talk with only a fraction of the filter on his speech that he usually had. “We should watch a film. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” Kylo smiled and enthusiastically nodded, following his Master back into the living room.

Hux let himself flop onto the sofa and began to flick through Netflix as Kylo set his head down on his knee, the rest of his body curled up almost into a ball.

“God, it’s been ages since I saw this. Was my favourite when I was a kid. Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen it? I don't know if it ever caught on outside of Britain.” Kylo opened his eyes to see the TV displaying the description for what looked to be an animation about rabbits. Watership Down. The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t say he’d ever seen it, and so he slowly shook his head. “This it is then. Just to warn you, it looks to be all sweetness and light at the outset but there are some really odd parts. Apparently it’s a metaphor for animal testing or myxomatosis or something like that. I’m not sure; I always took it at face-value.” Kylo had no idea what myxomatosis was, but he liked listening to his Master talk, so he didn’t question it.

They both stayed silent for a while, no noise other than the quiet, steady sound of each other’s breathing. It was nice; mostly calm, other than the moments where Kylo found himself squeezing the arm that he had wrapped his own two around for comfort. Hux wasn’t lying about the odd parts; whoever thought it would be a great idea to animate the burrow being filled in by including floating spirit rabbits during Captain Holly’s speech needed to do something about their underlying issues, he reckoned. He became accustomed to the silence between them, causing him to jump slightly when Hux spoke again.

“I used to have this on VHS when I was about seven, because VHS was actually a thing in the 1990s. I’d watch it constantly; I could probably have recited the whole thing, word-for-word. My nanny put up with a lot.” Kylo smiled slightly when he saw the far away look in Hux’s eyes, and the fond smile his mouth was hinting at. “She could put up with it, but my father used to hate it. I think purely because of the amount of times I watched it. And his wife wasn’t too keen either, but she never said anything. She never said a lot to me. Still doesn’t, I think she’d rather pretend that I don’t exist.”

Kylo sat up and crossed his legs, facing his Master and still holding his hand and arm. He began tracing circles on the back of Hux’s hand when he saw any semblance of a smile slip away. He could sense that whatever happened had upset his Master, and he hated to see him upset, or angry.

“One day he came back from work late, and I was watching it again. He was always late when he’d had a bad day, because he’d have to factor in time to drink half a bottle of whiskey. I don’t think I’ve ever been as drunk as he used to get some weeknights. I was watching it really quietly, because I didn’t want him to pay attention to me when he was drunk. But he didn’t like it. Said I should face him like a man rather than hide from a fight. I said I didn’t want to fight him, so he punched me. I can’t really remember what happened, except his wife made him lay off me. He did eventually, but he smashed the VHS. I haven’t watched it since, until now.”

Kylo could feel something in his stomach, making him want to be sick. But he also wanted to stay here forever, stroking Master’s hand and looking into his eyes and letting everything else fall away. He wanted his Master to be happy; he deserved to be, he reckoned.

He saw his Master lean forwards slightly and felt himself doing the same, as though his body was doing it without his permission. Tentative lips caught his, and a hand wound itself into his hair as his eyes fluttered shut. The feeling was foreign, new, different, but not in a bad way. He felt something coil in his stomach again, but this was a complete contrast to his nausea; this was perfect. Perfect and he wanted to stay here forever.

Eventually they separated, and Kylo let his head fall into Hux’s chest as he tried to calm his breathing and erratic heartbeat again. He finally slowed it enough to be able to mumble something into Hux’s chest.

“Hm? I can’t hear you, you’re being muffled.” Kylo forced himself to pull his face away from Hux’s chest and speak again, even if still quietly.

“My name. I, I can’t really remember all of it, my last master never let me use it, but I think it was Ben. My name is Ben.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watership Down and Felidae; my first class ticket to mental scarring by the age of 10.  
> @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr


	10. Chapter 10

Hux woke up with what felt like a pneumatic drill hammering into the side of his head, and a strong urge to fall asleep and never wake up again. Where was he, though? This didn’t even feel like a bed. He had gotten home, hadn’t he? If not then that’d be quite the throwback to his uni days, wow. Hell, he’d left when he was twenty, that was nine years ago now; he was far to old to be passing out drunk in a bush or what felt like a sofa. As his senses returned to him, he became aware of the weight on his chest, and the shoulders his arm felt like it was slumped over.

He gradually managed to force himself to open his eyes, accepting that the sunlight would inevitably make him want to die just that little bit more, and looked around him. His house, yes, but not his bedroom, his living room. Not so bad, not so bad. He’d been to a gala where he’d gotten just slightly over tipsy on free Prosecco and then made it home, but only as far as his sofa. Right. Not bad, but certainly unusual; he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t made it to bed in eight years, even when he was far further gone than he had been last night. There had to be a reason, it just seemed to have escaped him currently.

The head on his chest was Kylo’s, he knew that much. Kylo. The name didn’t sound right, something about it felt off. The reason was just out of his reach, but he was still far too bleary to be frustrated; that took far too much effort. The television was on, Netflix having apparently not been turned off so he, and by extension Kylo, must have fallen asleep while watching… Watership Down? Lord, he hadn’t watched that since he was a kid, not since his father had-

Oh God.

Moments and memories were slipping into place, along with a seeping guilt gradually beginning to weigh down in his stomach. Oh, he had fucked up big time. Hux could remember a kiss but then nothing else of a similar nature, however just because he couldn’t remember it, it still might have happened, although Kylo- no, _Ben_ , looked content in his sleep, curled up with his head lightly resting on Hux’s chest.

He’d managed to ignore it for months, the fact that he was far more attracted to Kylo than he thought he had been to anyone else throughout his life. It was an attraction he had told himself that he couldn’t act on. And yet last night he’d followed his father’s footsteps and let alcohol get the better of him.

_Weak-willed._

Hux gently woke the sleeping man with a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to see that for once he didn’t wake in a fog of panic, but instead simply blinked until he could see clearly and turned his head to look at Hux as though it was he who had put the sun in the sky. He probably didn’t realise that it felt rather like poison gradually burning Hux’s trachea. He looked like a child who still believed that people were inherently good and that Santa was still going to visit come December. Hux didn’t realise he wasn’t completely present until he was sharply dragged back to by soft, wary lips pressing against his. Muscle memory began to take over, however was quickly pushed out of the way by Hux’s prevailing voice of self-condemnation. He placed a hand on each of Kylo’s shoulders and pushed him away quickly.

“I’m sorry, Kylo. I’m so sorry; I can’t remember all of what happened last night but I know that what I did do was take advantage of you, it shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have done it. I do thoughtless things when I drink.”

Kylo let his head drop as he listened to Hux speak. Shouldn’t have happened, thoughtless things. He wanted to tell him that he felt the exact opposite; he had kissed him because he had wanted to. For the first time in his nineteen years he had felt as though he had made a reach for freedom, he had wanted it, he had taken it. And now that sudden, tenuous grasp on self-agency felt as though it was being pried away, digit by weak digit.

He sighed and pushed his forehead onto Hux’s shoulder, softly mumbling.

“Hm? I can’t hear you.” He summoned as much courage as he possibly could, emboldened somewhat by the fact that he didn’t have to look his Master in the eye as he spoke what felt like defiance.

“I love you, Sir. Hux. I love you Hux. You’re kind to me, but so… So scared? Scared? No, wary; wary, not scared.” He could feel his resolve flutter slightly, but he was already in deep now. How much worse could he make it? “Not scared. I’m scared. I don’t understand because I thought I loved Him but you’re so different, it feels so different. I love you, and it gives me so much more to lose.” He could hear his heart beating, feel adrenaline shooting through him, but forced himself to stay as still as he could manage until something damp hit the back of his neck. His head shot up, eyes searching for Hux’s and finding them damp. He was crying? Why was he crying? Oh God, he’d ruined it, hadn’t he? He just had to ruin it.

Something tugged in his chest, his body acting as though of its own accord. It desperately searched for affectionate contact, curling itself impossibly small and resting a head on a thigh, two arms wrapped around a paler foreign one, and a mind blissfully dead to the world.

* * *

 

Phasma had met many a drug lord in her time, had coffee with contract killers, witnessed torture for the sake of extracting information, she’d gotten her hands dirty on multiple occasions and was proud when others told her that she was as hard as they come. However she had never felt more out of her comfort zone than she did at her first Skywalker-Organa-Solo-whatever-other-surname-they-felt-like-adding family dinner.

She’d been on edge since before they’d started the two hour journey, no matter how Rey tried to allay her worries. For the first time in living memory, she actually cared what someone thought about her, and by extension, making a good impression on the rest of that person’s family was now a burning need in the back of her mind.

She’d already met Luke on a few occasions, picking up his daughter and the like; she was fairly certain that he quite liked her. She had gotten off on rather good footing though, being the knight in shining armour, saving his little girl and then sweeping her off her feet. She supposed the fancy galas and expensive gifts also did well to give her the appearance of a well-to-do young woman, a very good catch for his daughter. If he cared, that is, which she wasn't quite sure he did, past wanting her to find anyone who made her happy. The extended family, however, would be harder to please, she imagined.

Rey stood at the head of the party of three, knocking on the front door of the neat suburban house as Phasma hung back with Luke. The person who opened the door did set her at ease slightly, being a jovial man who seemed as though he could charm anyone in a five mile radius into having a drink with him. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be fine.

Han was his name; the “Solo” section of the triple-barrelled family title. The “Organa” section however, seemed like it would be far more of a challenge to make a good impression on.

She was sure the woman would have been absolutely stunning in her youth, her current self being carried with an almost regal grace that she could only hope to have in her own middle age. As for her conversation, her skilled dry wit was a degree of cutting that had to have been honed by years of practice, making her a woman after Phasma’s own heart while simultaneously making herself a rather large obstacle in this game of “meet the family”. She supposed that they might grow on each other in time, but for now she was glad that she’d be able to get away from the woman’s observant gaze rather promptly. Unfortunately, the universe had apparently decided to prove to her that Murphy’s law was, in fact, an unquestionable reality; anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

“Yeah, sorry to break it to you but that’s not gonna be starting anytime soon.” Han gestured towards the uncovered engine of Luke’s car.

“A taxi fare’s going to be ridiculous, particularly at this time of night.” Luke’s eye-roll was met by a pat on the back and reassurance that he didn’t have to worry about that; there was more than enough room for them all to stay over. Of course there was.

So that was how Phasma had found herself alone in a dark corridor in borrowed pyjamas. Han’s, of course; no one else in the house would have been even close to her size. Not a situation she would have ever wished to be in, particularly not since she now had no idea which door in this corridor led back to the bedroom she’d been given for the night. There was no way she’d have been able to sleep with Rey; single beds were impossible for her on her own, let alone with another person fighting for space as well. She’d tried to put off leaving the room for as long as possible but hey; even she couldn’t hold her bladder for that long, and she’d given in and gone in search of the bathroom.

She’d found it without much difficulty. Returning, however, was not so easy. After standing in the corridor for far longer than was comfortable, she just went for it and chose a door to carefully open. No one was in there trying to sleep, so there was a positive. Negatives, however, were that it wasn’t her room, and that her curiosity got the better of her when she saw the framed photos lining the windowsills of the room.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flicked on the torch, having to crouch down to almost kneeling to be eye level with them. Leia and Han were at least twenty years younger in the first one, but still easily identified as themselves. She was right; Leia had been stunning, and seemingly far happier as well. Not that one quick snapshot in time was anything to base assumptions on, she reprimanded herself. Leia and Luke were the feature of the next photo, then Luke and Rey. The next photograph, however, appeared to be something of an anomaly; she had no idea who the child was. Had to be of significance though, for Han and Leia to frame their school photograph. Two, in fact; the first one showed the kid to be about seven or so, the second one looked to be more like eleven. Middle school; a time she held no love for. Maybe he was a godson, a nephew on the Solo side of the family.

She tried to shrug off the nagging feeling of forgetfulness in the back of her mind and continued. Han and Leia, Han and Luke, Rey’s school photograph, a photo taken in front of a church. She had to look at that for a minute to identify Rey among the ten or so children; she had been a cute kid, all smiles and shining eyes as she held hands with the child next to her. The child from the other school photographs. Definitely the same age as Rey, maybe give or take a few years. He was smiling as well, an expression that made Phasma look back at photos she’d already passed; identical to Han Solo’s own smirk. Large ears, a prominent nose, an innocently charming smile and happy eyes stayed in her mind long after she supposed she’d outstayed her welcome in the room she’d never been invited into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I tired? Yes. Will I go to sleep? Not until I can think of something at least vaguely witty to put in my chapter notes.
> 
> @lazarus-is-risen


	11. Chapter 11

Stress could be blamed for a lot of problems in the lives of many people; gaining some weight, a shortening temper, gradually slipping further into an alcohol problem that was beginning to mirror that of your father. Hux had spent so long trying to avoid alcohol completely, but it could never have lasted, not when his work life was falling apart before it had even been rebuilt, and his ever-growing frustration at his apparent inability to help the creature that was currently sat at his feet like a dog. There was no way to win; he either hurt him by ignoring him, or he reinforced the imbalance between them by giving in and letting him remain where he was comfortable. Either way, Hux was exacerbating something negative when for once in his life he actually wanted to help someone other than himself.

The boy still rarely spoke more than a few sentences, and Hux would be lying if he said he wasn’t becoming increasingly frustrated by the word “master”. He wasn’t his master, he’d told him as much, repeatedly. And yet he always sank straight back into it with irritating ease. He’d reminded him of his name but all that had come of that was that he was referred to as Master Hux as opposed to simply the title. The one occasion where he’d been simply Hux was after he’d screwed up royally and kissed him. That seemed to reawaken the sad little whelp's urge to be pushed into a mattress, something that Hux thought they’d gotten past. This time he’d started using a different tack, insisting that it was what he wanted, he wanted it, wanted to make his master happy. Hux could imagine where that had come from; some scumbag wanting a more pliant lay while simultaneously wanting to forget that he was a scumbag who fucked unwilling teenage boys. Tell me you want it, you want to please me, you don’t want to know what happens if you don’t.

He had managed to mostly quell the voice in the back of his mind that had taken it upon itself to remind him that in different circumstances, Hux would’ve loved to give him what he asked for. He had always enjoyed a power exchange, having someone fighting to please him and fill in the ever-present gap in his frayed ego. Not that he’d fucked anyone in months. He couldn’t bear the idea when he knew that the next day he’d have to walk downstairs to dampened eyes and quiet resignation when he wanted fire. He wanted to see Ben’s eyes burn. Passion. He wanted passion.

The dog had been kicked past the point of anger, to prostration on his back with legs spread and neck bared. It was beginning to look as though it had been a point of no return all along and all that was left was for Hux to call him up onto his lap and allow him some contentment. Nineteen years was far too few to be relinquished to end of life care, but Hux couldn’t deny eyes like those.

Helping him on another level was surprisingly simple. Hux had eventually prised how long he had been in captivity from him, and had set out to try and give him at least a basic grounding in maths, English, and as much of his science education as he could remember, which was unfortunately thin on the ground considering how much his father had spent on his secondary education. Not that his reasoning for sending his son to Eton College had anything to do with the high standard of education; family tradition, and a desire to be left alone with his whiskey had made the concept of boarding rather appealing to him, a fact which he’d never bothered to keep to himself.

So when they had chance, Hux would read to him. He’d explain the nuances and implications of Shakespeare’s use of language in Macbeth, the Elizabethan concept of The Great Chain of Being, microcosms and macrocosms, how they would influence a reading of the text. He seemed to take to that better than he did to simplified GCSE maths, which was consistently met with a groan followed by apologetic eyes pleading for forgiveness for his perceived ungratefulness. A perception which didn’t extend past himself; Hux could hardly blame him when he’d detested the subject himself. The sciences were rocky as well, although he took to biology with relative ease.

Ben’s main fascination however, was with space. One book on stars and their life cycles was enough to trigger an obsession, resulting in hours of Brian Cox and evenings spent sat on the third floor balcony, head on chest and attention absolutely enraptured by the movements of the sky. He’d decided to learn all of the constellations in the western hemisphere and with poorly-concealed excitement he pointed all of the ones he knew out to Hux, who was pleased enough to not care that he was too cold, outside at one in the morning. As long as Ben was overtaken by this child-like, innocent enthusiasm, he didn’t care for much else.

Peace can never last forever. Being his father’s son, he should know that better than anyone. The job he’d been thrown into by virtue of nepotism should have informed him of this fact he tried too hard to forget. His life’s work was destruction and a lack of empathy, why was he surprised when he wasn’t as successful at the business of understanding pain and rebuilding from its ashes?

Three o’clock was far too early for Hux to function effectively, but when his phone rang, he answered it. He always did. There was always a chance that something important had happened and required his attention, and he’d never forgive himself if he missed something. This time, Mitaka was on the other end of the line, one of the few people Hux’s predecessor had hired who he would actually trust to not fuck up tying his own shoelaces. His voice was fast and with a level of alarm that made him wary, being different to his usual tone; a different flavour of panic.

“Slow down. I can’t hear a word you’re saying, slow down.” He was still fuzzy with sleep and knew it showed in his voice.

“First order. They’ve taken warehouses. Three of them. East side. Shot anyone guarding on sight, say they’re holding them hostage unless you negotiate with them.” It took him a few seconds to remind himself of what was in those particular warehouses before remembering that smuggling illegal weaponry was one of their stronger points as a group. That and paying powerful people to keep their mouths shut. A groan escaped him as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes; this could quite quickly become even more of a disaster than it already was. “And they said to be very specific in asking for you, said they won’t discuss with lackeys.”

“Right, contact Phasma and tell her to get here now. Tell her to bring her girlfriend as well, safest place is probably my basement. Fuck’s sake.” He ground out, hitting the side of his head in frustration. “Body guards who you think are completely trustworthy, send them here as well. Two or three. Tell First Order that if they want to talk, then they’ll talk on my territory. It’s not like they don’t already know where I live. Sort that, then you get yourself here as well.” Mitaka confirmed his compliance and Hux hung up, going to make himself look as intimidating as he could while still half asleep and haunted by the knowledge that this would inevitably reach his father.

* * *

 

Rey had no idea what was happening, other than Phasma’s phone had jarred both of them awake and that whatever the person on the other end of it was saying had to be pretty bad. Nothing shook Phasma, but this was somehow managing it. She was told to get ready, that they were going somewhere and it was important enough to be denting her girlfriend’s collected veneer.

She gasped quietly when she saw exactly where it was they were pulling into; it looked like a palace. Well, maybe not a palace, but it was certainly too big for any reasonable person. She followed Phasma out of the car and walked a step behind her as they were greeted by an anxious looking man who was easily half a foot shorter than Phasma, only just taller than herself. She tried to understand his babbling and get a grip on what was actually happening, gathering that he was called Mitaka and there was a group of people that was simply being referred to as “the cunts”. Lovely.

Blood rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment when a man she recognised stood in the ornate doorway, his complexion even paler than she’d remembered and making quite a juxtaposition to her own very red one.

“You’re both alright?” He wasn’t the smooth feline he had been last time they had met. Whatever had happened must have been disastrous; he looked wrecked, though was gradually pulling himself together as Phasma nodded in response. “Good. Good. Miss Skywalker is to remain out of sight for her own sake, I just didn’t feel comfortable asking you to leave her alone when she could be vulnerable to some petty form of revenge.”

“You don’t mind her overhearing discussions?”

“Not at all. You obviously deem her trustworthy.”

“And Ren?” Rey saw him freeze, if only momentarily, something that could easily have been missed.

“He’ll be fine.”

Rey was led to a room just as expensively decorated as any of the others, next to what appeared to be a conference room complete with round table that drew her mind to legends she’d been told as a child; the valiant King Arthur and his knights. The walls were thin enough for her to hear at least some of the conversation next door after Phasma had left her with a kiss to her forehead and a promise that it would be fine, they just had to take precautions.

An hour after she heard the door shut and voices begin raising, she heard something that sounded rather akin to an order to not smoke inside his house, who did he think he was? Followed by spat directions and a door opening. Another ten minutes passed and Rey was nervous about the lack of a returning smoker. Five more and she could have sworn she heard a noise coming from outside the conference room. Her stomach lurched for reasons she couldn’t place and contrary to logic and self-preservation, she found herself quietly cracking the door open and creeping out in search of the quiet mewl.

The house was an absolute maze, but it didn’t take long for Rey to turn a corner and be met by a middle-weight muscular man pressing a considerably thinner man face-first against a wall, pinning him with his shoulder with the fingers of one hand forced into his mouth to muffle the sobs that were wracking his body, the other hand roughly grasping between his legs. The assailant’s head swept around to face the intruder who, for reasons unknown although which could probably attributed to adrenaline, managed to stand her ground with murder in her eyes.

“Get the fuck off him, and do it now.” Her voice unwavering and barely concealing fury.

“Why should I?” He bit out, voice rough and low.

“He doesn’t want it, you’re hurting him, so you’re going to get off him.” She was met with what sounded like a bad impression of a giggle as the man’s hands continued exactly as they had been, if anything forcing further down his throat and becoming harsher in their grip.

“Of course he wants it. Little slut, aren’t you? Bet you haven’t been able to forget me, hm? What was it, six months ago that I fucked your mouth? Good at it too. Not that it matters whether he wants it; he’s an owned piece of meat. Paid for. Concubine. You picking up what I’m putting down here, girlie?” Rey could feel her hand begin to shake in her anger as her mind worked to catch up. She knew human trafficking was a thing, she knew she didn’t have to see the shaking man’s face to know he was crying, she knew there was no way she could physically tear this guy off him. So she screamed.

The man’s eyes widened, murder glowing in them as he realised what was going to happen, and he quickly let go of his victim who dropped to the floor and curled up in a sobbing ball. Sure enough, Phasma quickly appeared, followed by Hux, both of whom looked ready to kill. Hux was soon placated when he saw the man on the floor, rushing to kneel next to him and wrap an arm over his shoulders to pull him into his chest and stroke his hair.

“Pathetic; it’s a fucking slave, not a pet dog. What does it matter?” Hux’s eyes snapped up as he stilled completely, catching the other man with a glare that could have bored holes in steel.

“Get out of my house, Barrera. Get out and pay attention. Next time your guard drops, your head will end up on a spike at the entrance to my driveway. Am I clear?” He nodded frantically, bravado falling like a snowflake in an avalanche. Rey watched as Phasma led him away, her own emotions carefully hidden beneath an apathetic mask.

Hux pushed the crying man off his chest and held his face in both hands as he looked him over. She tried to surreptitiously glance at his face and was immediately frozen when she was met with deep brown eyes, ears and a nose that were disproportionate and yet somehow still fitting on his long face, black hair like waves of silk. His eyes closed as he was pulled back into the ginger’s arms, but Rey’s motor functions were only worsened when Hux spoke.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re alright, he’s gone. I’m here, Ben. You’re going to be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @lazarus-is-risen


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some gratuitous breaking of the fourth wall, there are just a few things I’d like to say before we get this here show back on the road.
> 
> 1- I’ve gone back and edited part of Chapter 3 to clear up some things up in regards to Hux’s background and motives etc. I would suggest going back and re-reading that, as it might help allay any confusion that may have arisen.
> 
> 2- Thank you to everyone who leaves kudos or comments; I’m awful at replying to things as I often don’t know what to say without sounding insincere but I do read all of them and there’s usually a lot of, dignified of course, squealing on my part. Also to people who’ve commented a few times, I see you there. I feel like I’m handing out drinks to my regulars in a pub and it’s actually wonderful, so thank you. We're all in this despair together.
> 
> 3- Thank you as well for any constructive criticism. Nothing I write has been beta-read and so sometimes things slip through my net; I’ve been planning this for months in my head and some things have almost become so ingrained as fact within this that I forget that it isn’t a given for anyone outside of my head. Thank you for pointing things out so I can adjust and hopefully improve this.
> 
> Thank you!

It was over, he was gone. He was gone. Hux was here and he’d be okay, just so long as he didn’t let go. His sobs were becoming more controllable now with his head pressed into Hux’s chest and voices gradually coming into focus again.

“Well now we’re fucked, aren’t we? I mean, I didn’t really want to negotiate with them, but what else can we do?” It took him a second to remember that this voice was Phasma’s, Hux liked her, she’d never hurt him. It was okay, he was okay.

“I’ll be honest, at the present moment I could not give less of a fuck, Phas. Let them have it. We’ll be fine in the long term, we now know what some of them look like, which is more than we knew before. Have someone watch his and Valle’s cars, see where they end up and report back; that’ll be something.” Ben didn’t think he’d ever heard his master sound so tired, maybe he’d let him stay in his bed again. He didn’t want to be alone. Ben didn’t hear much of her response before she turned and purposefully walked back the way she came. The girl he didn’t know stayed still, however. He didn’t think she’d moved since his master had appeared. Not that it mattered; she’d helped him, and Hux seemed to be accepting of her being there so she had to be good. His master wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, not while he was there.

“Rey-” His master began to speak again, though didn’t seem to know what to say, so he had to pause again to consider his words. “Thank you, Rey.” Complete silence returned, filtered in with a tension in the atmosphere that made Ben’s jaw clench and draw his arms more tightly around Hux’s waist. Time seemed to slow in the interval and he could feel Hux stiffen underneath him, the hand on the back of his head becoming rigid.

“He’s a slave.” Her voice was calm, completely level as she stated what Ben thought would be the obvious. “You own a slave.” Even through her tranquil tone, the accusation behind her words was clear. Ben pulled his head back just enough for him to see Hux’s face, wanting at least some form of direction from his reaction as to what this meant. The choking silence began to creep back in until, thankfully, Hux broke it.

“It’s complicated.” What did that mean? “I never meant to-” Ben jumped when he felt movement come from Hux’s pocket, needing a moment to remember that it was okay, it was just his phone. Nothing else. He saw his face drop from placated anger to abject terror when he pulled the offending object out and glanced to see who in God’s name would be calling him now. “I can explain, but I need to take this. Okay, Ben? I just need you to get off me for a second. Not for long.” No. He couldn’t let go. If he let go he might not get it back, he needed him back. “It’ll be alright, Ben. Just a phone call, then I’ll be back.” His master wanted him to let go, he wanted his master to be happy. He relaxed his arms and Hux held his waist as he slid off his lap and onto the floor, being left with a kiss to his forehead.

He watched him walk away before pulling his legs up into his chest and wrapping his arms around them and pressing his head into his knees. He’d be back, he’d be back, he’d be back. He was safe, he was safe, he was safe. Master loved him, master loved him, Hux loved him.

Hux had been gone for what seemed like an age to Ben when he was jolted out of his trance by a female voice. The girl, Rey. Phasma’s friend. He hadn’t even noticed her becoming closer, knelt down on his level like she was trying to console a scared kitten.

“Ben, Ben it’s me.” He lifted his head to look at her, one eyebrow raised. He knew who she was, he’d only just met her. He didn’t know much about her, but he didn’t need another introduction. “It’s Rey.” He knew that. “Remember? Come on, I’m in there somewhere. Skywalker, I’m Rey Skywalker.” She had her hands on his shoulders now as he shied backwards, his eyes soon becoming damp. He wanted her off him. “Uncle Luke’s daughter.” Her face was quickly becoming panicked, her voice racing as his heart tried to keep up. “I’m Rey Skywalker, you’re Ben Solo.” He sobbed and reached out a hand, pushing with just enough force to show her what he wanted. She pulled back, her own eyes only just managing to hold in frustrated tears themselves. “Do you remember? Please tell me you do, please Ben.”

He remembered flashes of memories; green and blue, a stream surrounded by trees, clear sky. A hand on each of his, tree swings, tyres on rope. The noise of an ignored radio as he sat in the corner of a room, happy to spectate. A black car, a man smiling, _“Do you want to help your old man, Ben?”_ Stained glass, hymns, games, stern glances with badly-hidden affection.

A sharp pain ran across his mind, causing him to gasp for air as he lost control of his own thoughts. Laughter, directed _at_ him, not _with_ him. Tears in a hidden corner of a school and desperation to just fit in, just keep them happy. Rejection, betrayal as he walked lonely, foreign roads in the afternoon. Then nothing, followed by more pain that made Ben curl in on himself, wanting to rip his chest apart with overwhelmed nails. In his head, pain, fire. He couldn't stop the burning as it had destroyed his nerves gradually, one by one. One by one in blinding white pain until he felt nothing at all. Emptiness.

“I can help you, Ben. Let me help you, I can get you out of here and away from him.” He shook his head violently, shaking out the buzzing of her words like wasps in his skull. “Ben, please. I’m so sorry, I failed you and you’ve been paying for it ever since, let me help you. I love you, Ben.” He didn’t want her help, he wanted her to go away, stop talking; he didn’t want to remember. If she loved him, why was she dragging everything up that he’d tried so hard to bury under layers of ignorance? “I love you Ben, he doesn’t. He’s a monster, can’t you see that?”

No. No he couldn’t. Hux wasn’t a monster. Hux had given him more than he could ever have asked for; Hux loved him, Hux wanted him to be happy as much as he wanted his master to be. He had never hurt him, and Ben loved him. He loved him in a way that he’d never felt with what he remembered of his family, and it was so far apart from how he’d felt about his last master, a love based in self-preservation. He wanted to stay here, curled up next to Hux while he slept, one arm around his master’s narrow waist, he wanted him to read to him, and watch the stars with him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a door slamming loudly, Rey jumping back away from him as Hux reappeared. He looked somewhat dishevelled, tired beyond reason and his usually pristine hair couldn’t decide which way it wanted to point; one of his many flaws was his tendency to yank at his hair when he was stressed or frustrated, his emotions then demonstrated to the world in a manner he detested.

Of course his father already knew, the man knew everything. “You better fix this, Armitage,” as if he wasn’t already trying to, “be a man for once and do your job, or come back to England with your tail between your legs. You know what will happen either way,” like that was going to help. The only thing he could bear to think of doing at the moment was just sitting with Ben, making sure he was alright and holding him until he fell asleep in his arms. He had questions, though; Barrera had clearly known Ben, or at least known of him. First and foremost he wanted to know how he knew what he did so Hux could estimate quite how slow he wanted to make the man’s death. Not that he’d tell Ben that part, of course; they had been so close to contentment before now and obviously this was going to be about thirty steps back, but he still didn’t want to exacerbate it more. He’d go and pick Ben up and carry him upstairs and he’d deal with it when he woke up.

Hux’s heart sank when he saw Ben, tears that had only recently stopped were streaming again in full force, and shivers and sobs shaking his entire body. Hux rushed to kneel down next to him, one arm reaching around his shoulders and the other hand holding his chin gently. He stroked his cheek with his thumb and murmured what he hoped were comforting “you’re alright”s and “I love you”s, Ben gradually becoming stiller and stiller.

He glanced up at Rey, who looked as though she herself was on the verge of tears. It didn’t take long to put two and two together.

“What happened? What did you say?” He tried to keep any anger out of his voice; if he was her in this situation, he knew he’d react badly himself. She was only human. It took a while for her to respond, and when she did, she spoke slowly.

“I told him that I know who he is. Or who he was, I’m not- I’m not sure how much of that is left.” Ben stiffened in his arms and Hux had to draw himself out of his confusion to focus on calming him again. The poor creature must have been absolutely exhausted.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that his name is Ben Solo, he’s the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa, and he went missing when he was eleven years old." She was forced to stop by the cracks appearing in her voice, closing her eyes and breathing deeply before being able to continue in a still shaky manner. "They never gave up, they were just tired. They began wishing they could believe he was dead, because that would be easier than whatever purpose he could have been kept alive for. And they were probably right.” Tears had been bitten back and replaced with a fury that could crack the earth beneath them. “What do you get out of this? Does it stroke your ego, having someone who can’t say no? Someone who has said they love you and heard you say it so many times that they think it’s true? Or is it power? Does control get you off? You’re a monster.” That uncomfortable silence with which they were becoming familiar returned as Hux waited for her to continue. When it was fairly certain that she wouldn't, he spoke again.

“Are you done now?” He shouldn’t have his hackles raised so much; it was an assumption, but one that could only be expected, yet he spoke through gritted teeth. She didn’t reply, her eyes saying anything she was thinking. “No. “What I get out of this” is none of those things. This will inevitably seem far-fetched; of course it will, I could never kid myself otherwise.” He gave himself a moment to consider where to begin. “I hadn’t planned for any of this. I was undercover, given an opportunity and I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Why would I have expected anything more than a particularly obnoxious dinner party? I had no idea what it was until they started leading people out. I couldn't get up and walk out; it would hardly have been inconspicuous. And I know I should have left it. Should have remained silent and left when I eventually could, but then he was there and I just-” He sighed and buried his face in Ben’s hair for a moment. “I did it before I even thought about it, but he had life in him. The others didn’t, they may as well have already been dead, but he cried and he kicked and he begged. He was broken, for sure, but not completely, and I could never have lived with myself if I didn’t try to do something.”

Rey’s face softened slightly, but there was still a flicker of hatred in her eyes. She wanted to believe it, but part of her wouldn’t allow it, refused to believe something so convenient.

“I haven’t touched him in any manner other than affection. I’m not a good man, and I’m under no illusions regarding that, but I’m no rapist.” Ben had by now shifted onto his lap, nuzzling his face into Hux’s shoulder now that tiredness had overcome fear within him.

Both Hux and Rey’s attention were drawn to the tall blonde as she reappeared, phone in hand.

“Done. They’ve gone towards the docklands, but I trusted them enough to leave them to it.” She didn’t seem phased by the silence that returned once she finished, though be that through honesty or practice was anyone’s guess. Finally though, Rey’s eyes returned to Hux.

“Did she know?” He saw Phasma’s eyebrow twitch minutely as she also looked at him, awaiting an answer for a question she didn’t quite understand.

“No. She knew he was here, but not how or why. Had nothing to do with it.” Rey’s gaze fell to the floor, happy to believe that, but still feeling empty.

“He’s coming back with me, when I leave. Coming back to his family.”


	13. Chapter 13

Hux had been too tired to argue with her; he just wanted to sleep and he knew that Ben wasn’t far off passing out in his arms. It was just something else he promised himself he’d deal with in the morning.

He didn’t think he’d ever been happier to take his suit off; he just wanted to be done with it all. Maybe if someone shot him in the back of the head, he wouldn’t have to fix it and everything would be so much simpler; no father, no First Order, no warring sides of his own brain fighting over whether to send the best thing in his life back to his family or whether to keep him to himself. He knew what he should do. He had no right to keep him, his family was ultimately where he belonged, but he had had no idea how attached he would become. It seemed to be reciprocated, and not simply out of fear now; he apparently made Ben happy, or at least he saw him as his protector rather than someone who was going to hurt him, judging by his tendency to try and hide behind his arms when he was anxious or upset, and the smile that was gradually beginning to appear more regularly. Hux knew he’d kill to see more of it.

He had no idea how Ben would cope with a sudden change to everything he’d started to become acclimatised to, and a sudden increase in human contact. He didn’t deal well with a lot of people at the best of times; Phasma still made him nervous, and the sheer presence of people he didn’t know in the house had been enough to set off a near-panic attack earlier, even before he’d come in contact with Barrera. How he’d cope with a large family desperate to make up for eight, almost nine, lost years, Hux couldn’t imagine he’d stop crying for a week.

But he pushed it out of his head for now, he would think about it in the morning when his head didn’t feel like a jackhammer was pounding into the back of his skull and his hand hopefully wouldn’t be trying to close around the neck of a phantom bottle of vodka.

He threw on a t-shirt and crawled into bed next to Ben with his adoring eyes and shut his own, welcoming the arm that slipped around his waist. He’d been confused the first time Ben had done it; it seemed to be an almost dominant action from a very meek man, until Hux had considered it. Ben wasn’t meek, he wasn’t meant to be some quivering wreck, he had just been forced so far away from what was actually himself that such a simple act of will and maybe even possessiveness seemed out of place. Hux wasn’t going to question anything that seemed like a step towards normality. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

* * *

 

The morning came far too quickly, even if “the morning” on this occasion was one in the afternoon, considering he’d only managed to fall asleep in the first place at five AM. Hux had woken up half an hour earlier, but had been unable to force himself to do anything other than lie in bed and watch Ben’s sleeping face. He wanted to do what was best for him, he deserved as much. For now though, he could make the most of what time he had left with him, interlocking his fingers with those of the hand wrapped around him and resting his head on Ben’s chest.

When Ben finally stirred awake, Hux stayed silent, desperate to not move, to just stay there forever. He wanted Ben to know that he loved him, he loved him more than he’d ever expected to or had before, and what he was about to do would never change that. He didn’t expect it to work, though, but he could try.

Hux closed his eyes again, a vain attempt to block out his own thoughts, and startled slightly when he felt a hand in his hair. He’d noticed the size of Ben’s hands in passing before, but it was only now that he had long fingers gently twisting his hair and rubbing into his scalp that he actually appreciated it. He had no real idea why this was something he’d always done with Ben when he had no recollection of ever having it done to himself, but he did have a suspicion that it had something to do with that redheaded Dublin woman he could only just remember if he strained his mind. His father had never allowed him to talk about her, even thinking about her was deemed criminal, but Hux knew that he’d rather be like her than Brendol any day. He thought it was almost poetic; the two people he’d cared about unconditionally, and who had loved him the same, were the ones torn away from him.

Eventually he managed to force himself out of bed, biting his lip to keep himself quiet as he got dressed and made his way downstairs with Ben following him and, as usual, looking as though he worshipped the ground Hux walked on. He almost turned on his heels and ran to hide upstairs again when he saw Rey, but refused to let himself. He was going to see this through, not back down, and if that meant he had to regain the depersonalised mask of intimidation that he had cultivated through years of his job and his father, then so be it.

“Miss Skywalker, I trust that you slept well?” He sensed Ben shrinking behind him and reached back to place a hand on his arm. Rey nodded warily from her seat next to Phasma who currently looked as though she’d rather be dead than awake. “Good. I believe we need to have a conversation regarding Ben.”

“He’s coming with me, Hux. What else is there to talk about?” He felt his eyebrow twitch.

“That’s as may be, you don’t know him as he is now and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he’s delicate.”

Ben would have sworn he could feel his heart stop, his blood being dragged down to his feet and his head light. “That’s as may be,” what did he mean? He was going to do it? Hux was going to give him away to this reminder of his memories who had made him bring up the past, remember things he wanted to forget. Why? What had he done wrong? What had he done? He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay here, Hux was safe, Hux loved him but Hux was going to give him away again?

He supposed he should have never let himself forget what he was, should never have allowed himself to become too comfortable. Allowing for happiness and hope only gave you more to have ripped away from you, in the end. He’d known it, and he should never have forgotten.

He sat silently next to Hux and tried to make himself as small as his long frame would allow him. He’d never been good at that; his skeleton would never allow it, particularly not now he’d gained weight. He was still too thin for his broad shoulders at eleven stone, but it was an improvement upon his initial eight and a half. Hux had been carefully following the guidelines that Dr Kanata had given him; eventually he’d been able to stop taking the phosphorous supplements she’d given him to avoid refeeding syndrome, but Hux had still taken so much care to strike a happy medium between putting weight on him and over-facing him. He’d looked after him. Hux was giving him away.

“You have to be patient with him. Don’t push him too far out of his comfort zone at once; it’s counterproductive, sends him further back into himself.” Hux had read to him, Hux had watched the stars with him, Hux was giving him away. “He can get confused sometimes, when things contradict with what he’s been taught. It can make him panic, but you just have to be patient.” Hux had held him, Hux had stroked his hair, Hux was giving him away. “You can’t raise your voice; it scares him. Loud noises, things crashing, doors slamming, he’s been getting better with but it’s still best to avoid them.” Hux had let him speak, Hux had told him he loved him, Hux was giving him away.

His words were drowned out by Ben’s thoughts, by his repeated mantra that he couldn’t stop. He must have done something, everything had been fine before last night-

Last night.

One of those men, he’d touched him. He’d pinned him against a wall, forced his fingers down his throat. He’d remembered him, remembered his name from all those months ago, when his old master decided to sell him, called him a slut while he hurt him. He’d damaged him again and now Hux didn’t want him anymore.

Hux didn’t like it when he cried, so he didn’t.

He didn’t say a word as he emptied the wardrobes of the clothes that Hux had given him, knowing that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to stop the tide that he was forcing back. Some of these things, Hux had brought back after he had to go out somewhere, given them to Ben with a smile and a quick kiss to his forehead. Some of them used to be Hux’s things, he’d given them to him saying they suited him better anyway, but as Ben gained weight he could feel them becoming smaller on him. Not that he minded much; they smelled like Hux and that was all that mattered.

Hux helped him pack, his face still and emotionless in a way that made Ben want to disappear, and Rey watched closely, unsure of how helpful she would actually be if she offered to lend a hand. Eventually Hux and Phasma began shifting the bags into the back of Phasma’s car while Rey and Ben stood back, Rey placing an attempt at a comforting hand on Ben’s arm.

“You’re going to be okay, Ben. You’re coming home, you’re getting out.” He didn’t have anything to say.

He was just about to follow Phasma and get in the back seat of the car when he saw Hux’s eyes widen.

“I just remembered something, give me a minute. Come with me for a second, Ben.” He did as Hux asked after Rey gave an unimpressed nod, wanting to make the most of his final minutes with him. He didn’t want to go. He followed him into his study and remained silent as Hux searched the bookshelves that lined the room, eventually pulling one down. Wonders of the Universe by Professor Brian Cox; Ben had watched the documentaries religiously, absolutely enthralled, and then Hux came home with the book and he’d not yet gotten around to reading it, but he’d been so excited.

He watched as Hux flipped through the book, picking up a pencil from his desk and quickly jotting something down in a white space on one of the middle pages. Hux then pushed it into his hands and Ben hugged it tightly against his chest.

“It’s my address and phone number.” Hux slipped his hand behind Ben’s head and wrapped his fingers in his hair. “I’ll find you, Ben. You know that, don’t you? I’m not leaving you, I promise.” Silence fell between them, breaking the last of Ben’s barriers and letting tears he’d been holding back flow freely down his face, and Hux wasn’t far off sobbing himself.

They didn’t know who pressed forward first, but in the end, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that Hux’s lips were on his, and they were gentle and kind and he tasted sweet, sherbet mixed with his own tears; this was all he wanted and it was about to be ripped away from him. He sobbed into Hux, who pulled away to chastely kiss his forehead, holding Ben to his chest as the man bowed his head.

“I love you, Ben Solo. Please, don’t forget that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me ages to write, not because it was particularly difficult, but because [my dog](http://lazarus-is-risen.tumblr.com/post/149032996046/the-best-distraction-if-ever-there-was-one) has learned how to grab my arm and stop me from typing. She's becoming a clever brat, rather than just a cute one.
> 
> @lazarus-is-risen


	14. Chapter 14

This should have been it. She had imagined what would happen next repeatedly over the past eight years, nearly nine; she had everything planned out. Her little boy would come running into her arms, he’d cry, as would she, and they’d talk and he’d be so glad to be back home and she'd be so glad to have him back. They’d be inseparable as they made up for the years they’d missed together, everything would go back to normal soon enough because she loved him and that was what mattered, wasn’t it? He was home now, what had happened to him should have been over, in the past as he strode back to normality because that’s what he would want, isn’t it?

This was all wrong.

Rey had walked through the door first and was met by an expectant Han and Leia who had only just managed to hold back tears since they’d had a phone call at eight in the morning from their niece to say that Ben was coming home but she couldn’t explain everything yet. She had looked tenser than Leia could ever remember seeing her, but she wrote it off as nerves similar to those that she was feeling herself and watched as Rey turned so that she was sideways on to the door.

Leia’s heart leapt up to her throat as she watched a male figure walk through the door, skinny and closed off with arms wrapped around himself and eyes focussed on the floor. He looked so different and yet his eyes, his nose, his ears, his hair, were all her Ben, her Ben who she had lost when he was far too young but was home now. He was back. Her little boy.

Except he didn’t run into his mother’s arms and tearfully say that he loved her; he didn’t even look at her, he just kept staring at the floor. Rey threw an apologetic glance towards Leia, a sad grimace that only lasted a fraction of a second within the extended expanse of silence that lay awkwardly across the room. Han forced a cough in an attempt to draw his son’s attention towards him for at least a moment, but earned a flinch from Ben and a glare from his wife, betraying the mix of fear and sadness that she currently couldn’t quite escape, combined with a growing spark of anger. How dare anyone do this to their son? The innocent, cheerful little boy who just wanted to make everyone happy and was always smiling. This adult stood in front of her was a shell of what he had been, and her hopes and heart fell as she quickly realised that there may be no way to simply continue where they’d left off.

Leia swallowed nervously as she steeled herself before stepping forward and closing the gap between them and was suddenly very aware of quite how tall he’d gotten. Last time she’d checked, he had just about reached her shoulder, now he towered over her by more than a foot. He’d grown into his awkward features and was broader than she could ever have imagined him. She realised that in all of her daydreaming, Ben had never been this or anything like it; he’d still been a child. Her child, her lost baby. Of course he wasn’t anymore; he was almost twenty years old, why had she expected anything else?

She reached up to gently place her hand on his cheek and almost burst into tears when she felt him stiffen under her touch. Her other hand reached out for his shoulder, having to stretch far more than she’d had to in her mind.

“Ben? Ben, you remember me, don’t you? And your father, you remember us?” She couldn’t help the cracks that appeared in her voice, but there was a rush of warmth that she couldn’t quite place when he slowly nodded in response. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard, after all.

* * *

 

It turned out that yes; it was going to be that hard. Ben had hardly looked up from the floor, let alone spoken, in days. He’d gone back into his old room, although they soon discovered that there was no way he was going to fit comfortably in a single bed. Han had gone to Ikea the next morning, having asked Ben if he wanted to come since he remembered how much he used to love it there. After all, there was nothing better than Swedish meatballs, even at eleven AM. He’d received a quick shake of the head and had left it at that, not wanting to push him to fast, too soon.

He’d sat silently while his father had put the flat-pack bed together, handing him pieces as asked, but otherwise not really present; Han could tell that he wasn’t listening to a word he said about Uncle Chewie or the workshop they still ran, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to say it. He just wanted to feel some form of connection but all he got was static that made him want to tear his hair out and scream.

He had been ecstatic to finally be able to get out of that room by the time he’d finished.

Ben, on the other hand never left it, given the choice. He sat content in his silence, not having left without being pushed since he’d gotten there. Every time Leia or Han glanced around the door he was sat cross legged on the bed reading the same book, completely and unwaveringly focussed.

Leia had summoned the nerve to ask him about it one evening, having lured him out with food as she did every day, at least once. He ate breakfast alone in his room and often did the same with lunch but she refused to allow it in the evenings, forcing herself and her husband to endure the discomfort of the dead air that existed between the three of them.

“Ben,” she forced her voice to remain level, “what is it that you’re reading? Is it always the same book?” the quietness returned and she had accepted that she probably wouldn’t get a response when a soft but incredibly low voice that she didn’t think she would ever become used to spoke.

“Brian Cox. It’s about space.” Han glanced at her, sharing her muted excitement in this breakthrough that was presenting itself to them.

“And you’re reading the same book every day?” He nodded, still not looking up from his plate. “How many times have you read it then?” Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Once a day, sometimes twice if I’m fast.” It was only just above a murmur and she had to strain to hear him.

“Well, would you like something else to read? I’m sure you must be getting bored of it by now, we’ve got piles of books.” It was easier to keep her voice calm now she’d actually had a response. Maybe they were getting somewhere after all.

“Not bored, I like it. But thank you.” He stumbled over the last part, but he made it, which was a step in the right direction, she told herself.

“Is there something special about it? Why do you read it so much?” Han currently looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else, feeding off the discomfort he could feel rolling off his son by the bucketload. He looked like a rabbit caught in headlights; Han assumed that he’d expected to only have to say one sentence and then be done with the conversation. Leia, however, seemed to either not notice or not care about whether or not her son wanted to continue the conversation. He swallowed anxiously before shakily replying.

“He- Hux. Hux gave it to me.” Leia was silenced by the fury she could sense from her husband and allowed the conversation to end there, the silence returning and only being momentarily broken by Leia telling Ben he could leave the table if he wanted. He of course quickly removed himself from the room, making no secret of his desire to escape upstairs.

Han, however, stayed still, his knuckles turning white from his grip around his cutlery, rage emanating from him like a storm.

“So we’re not even going to question that? We’re going to let him go off upstairs and hide himself away just so he can imagine he’s with that bastard?” He bit out viciously, apparently not caring whether Ben could hear him or not.

Leia had to admit that she agreed with her husband’s sentiment, but lacked the will to take away something Ben cared about and then deal with the aftermath. They’d tried forcing him out of his room; nothing good had come of it, just more silence that none of them could really bear.

When Rey had retold the story how she’d found him, Leia had wanted Hux dead. She’d wanted to hunt this man down and string him up, quarter him by horses, force him to endure all the pain she’d felt. She was suspicious of the tale he’d told, portraying himself as some kind of knight in shining armour who _only wanted to help him_. Bullshit; he’d wanted to hurt her son the same way the man he’d bought him from had. Of course he had. Her suspicions had only been worsened when a sighing Rey told her that no; going to the police would be an awful idea. The man’s mob apparently wouldn’t take well to that.

But it wasn’t Ben’s fault. The poor boy had been through enough; he hadn’t chosen any of what happened to him. And this attachment to his captor, well, Stockholm syndrome was something she’d read about; that had to be it, didn’t it? The man was evil, and his effect on their son was just an extension of that.

“Calm down, Han. Give him time, he’ll stop eventually.”

“Give him time? Leia,” He stopped to almost laugh in what she guessed was disbelief. “Leia, I’ve been waiting almost nine years to get my son back. We get him back, and what happens? He hides himself away, doesn’t talk for almost a month. And when he does talk, it comes back to that bastard. Face it, we don’t have him back, do we? Not really.” He spat the words out as though they were burning his throat and to keep them in any longer would sear a hole through his neck. “He doesn’t even care. Probably wouldn’t give a damn if one of us got hit by a bus tomorrow.”

“Don’t say that, Han. You know he would-”

“Do I? No I fucking don’t.” He slammed his hands down on the table and stood rapidly. “We’re not going to get our son back until we separate him from Hux. You can either help me, or you can sit there like there’s nothing wrong; your choice.” At that, Han followed the route Ben had made up the stairs with Leia following him as closely as she could and shouting at him to just leave it.

He burst the door open, Ben starting although clearly not completely surprised as he could easily have heard his father’s shouting. He shrank back against the wall his bed was pressed up against, arms wrapped around his knees as Han started hunting around the room for the book.

“What have you done with it? Where is it?” He was bordering on screaming now, not caring as Ben began shaking and hid his face against his legs and Leia shouted at him to stop and leave him alone, couldn’t he see that he was scaring him? He pulled drawers out of wardrobes, chests, under the bed, and rifled through clothes and linen like a bloodhound after a fox.

Ben’s head shot up when he realised that Han was about to find it and was on his feet faster than he’d moved for months when he saw his father grab the book. He needed that, he needed the address, the phone number. He needed it, he needed to be able to find Hux again. He needed Hux.

He sprinted down the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time to try and catch his father, finally closing in on him in the living room with his heart racing and pulse increasing yet again when he saw that he was striding towards the fireplace. He made to grab the book back out of his hands, his mind not allowing him to think of anything else but the object and Hux, Hux, Hux. The singular track of his thoughts preventing him from stopping the hand that grabbed his wrist and twisted it, forcing him onto the floor on his side.

“For God’s sake Ben, just give up! Let him go, he’s not coming back.” Ben winced and couldn’t hold back the mewl of pain that escaped him when he wasn’t paying attention, his mind too busy regressing back to where he’d been a year ago. Raised voices, he’d made someone angry. He hurt and he needed it to stop. How did he used to make it stop?

He let his body go limp and the frenzy in his face dropped to make way for wide eyes and a quivering bottom lip as his mind clouded over. It was working so far, his wrist didn’t hurt as much now, but his father’s eyes were still on him, although less angry now and more confused. He let go; he must be on the right track.

Ben pushed himself up onto his knees in front of his father and allowed his body to work through muscle memory; it was always easier when he didn’t have to think. He reached up for the zip in front of him and went to drag it down when he was forcefully pushed back. That wasn’t meant to happen. No, that changed the routine, that forced him to think again.

He looked up at his father’s face and wished he could disappear, if it would make those horrified wide eyes stop burning holes into him. His entire body began to move with the force of his breathing and his eyes became damp as his brain raced to catch up with his body. Why had he done that? He’d just wanted the book back, wanted Han to not be angry with him, stop hurting him. Ben gracelessly pushed himself up from his heap on the floor and ran upstairs as fast as he could, desperate to get away from those eyes as he buried himself under his bed’s covers.

It hardly took five minutes before there was a gentle knock on his door and the small figure of his mother appeared in the doorframe with her arm outstretched and hand clutching his book, a clear peace offering. He made nervous eye contact with her, warily inviting her in. She sat next to his stomach, handing him the book which was promptly cradles against his chest, and slid her hand into his hair as he bent to lay his head in her lap and sob quietly into her leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sorely lacking some Hux, I know.
> 
> I'm going to have to slow down these updates. I'm currently updating bi-weekly on Tuesday and Friday nights (night judged by English time, currently BST) however I'm going away again, this time to the wilds of Scotland which will inevitably have questionable wifi. Plus, I'm going back to the joys of education soon so my workload is going to be going way up and my spare time is going to be going down. Combine juggling work with looking after my horse and we have fun. (Speaking of, [here's my horse](http://lazarus-is-risen.tumblr.com/post/149197278746/i-think-hes-pretty-but-i-am-rather-biased) because we're all friends in our sin, here.)
> 
> This thing is kind of my baby, so I'd rather keep the quality of what I'm writing consistent and slow down updates to once a week, maybe once a fortnight, than keep updating at the same rate but be writing shite. I mean, I'm a really slow writer to begin with; 2000 words will take me at least three hours. 
> 
> Hope that's okay, and I hope everyone has a good week :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, in fact, alive.
> 
> So I went to Scotland for two weeks. Not inhabited Scotland, I'm talking "the only living thing you'll see for a twenty-mile radius is the odd cow and free-roaming sheep" Scotland. There was wifi which my phone would connect to, however it point-blank refused to let my laptop connect and there was no way I was typing out 2000+ words on a touchscreen.
> 
> Sorry for disappearing :)

When a word is said repeatedly, too much, to often, some believe that it causes the word to lose all meaning.

There is a rather overused phrase in the English language that has been nigh-on destroyed by this callous disregard from those who speak it, as has often happened throughout history when certain words and phrases and analogies quickly become old or cliche. For example, use of the word “rad” after the year 1999 is more likely to elicit a roll of the eyes or a desire to slap the offending outdated mess until they swear to never attempt to use slang again. Or phrases which once may have sounded deep, insightful or intellectual fall into such common use that they tend to have the exact opposite effect and connotations.

“You only know what you’ve got once you’ve lost it” is the particular phrase in question, in this instance. The difference, however, is that this was never strictly true to begin with. While it can be correct in certain circumstances, the use of the word “only” is what makes it fallible; it is perfectly possible for something to be appreciated during its existence, and furthermore, an appreciation of something doesn’t mean that a person won’t still be as affected by its loss as another who had never quite known its worth when they still had it.

Hux had never thought about it in such detail before, having taken it at face value and not having had reason for it to be relevant to him. Now however, with far more time on his hands than he ever could have found pleasant and a severe lack of the person who he had moulded his life around for the past ten months, he found he had the luxury to overthink. Not that he found that pleasant, either.

He tried throwing himself into his work, participating far more readily than he ever had before in the more hands-on aspects of it, in an attempt to use up any spare thoughts and attention that he may have had. It worked to a point; there was only so much else that a man can consider while he’s attempting to extract information from someone through the medium of sharp blades and shallow cuts, or watching as some double-crossing idiot realises he isn’t quite the hot-shot he thought he was as his nails are removed one-by-one and his lifeless head is thrown across a bar as an example to other over-arrogant pricks. The point where this ceased to work was when, while Hux was pulling teeth or threatening with rats and heated buckets on bare stomachs, he would suddenly become aware of the juxtaposition between himself at work and himself with Ben, and was reminded of which he actually preferred by miles.

His father of course told him over the phone that while he still had a long way to go before he actually deserved the use of the Hux name, and to be Brendol’s successor, his increase in viciousness was certainly a step in the right direction. Now he’d gotten he praise that he thought he’d been so desperate for since he was a child, nausea set in and he realised how little he actually wanted it from a man who sickened him. He aspired to be nothing like his father, and yet he knew that every day he was ambling a step closer to the man.

The other pastime he threw himself into had been gradually eking its way into his heart, and was on its way to becoming his one true love.

He had promised himself that one glass of whisky every so often when he was stressed wasn’t so bad. Then when every day became a stressor for him, he simply accepted it as a daily method for relaxation. Relaxation soon became self medication when all he could think about was black curls, and hazel eyes that lit up as they explained that Rigel was not, in fact, a singular star, but a system of three stars, and the one that you can see, the brightest of them, was Rigel A and Rigel A was so big that it had already used up all of its hydrogen in eight million years, whereas the sun was four and a half BILLION years old and soon Rigel A was going to expand into a red supergiant rather than a blue one like it was at the moment and then it would go supernova and be the brightest thing in all of the night sky, and wouldn’t that be so pretty?

He wanted the thoughts gone, but could never bring himself to wish that it had never happened, of course he couldn’t. For the short time that he had been in his life, Ben had made him a better person, he reckoned. Now that he wasn’t here, Hux supposed that he no longer had anyone to disappoint as he passed out in his chair for the third time that week.

* * *

 

Phasma worried about him; of course she did. Initially it had seemed as though Hux was simply going through motions similar to those which happen after a particularly bad break up, but then it continued and rather than gradually improving, she saw him gradually decline. The man had emotionally curled in on himself more than he already had been before September, the time she had started to refer to as “Before Kylo”, as opposed to “During Kylo” and now, “After Kylo”.

She had of course had her doubts about him initially, things ranging from what if it was all a trap and Hux was going to have his throat slit in the night, to why on Earth was he becoming involved in a bloody human trafficking ring. But the boy had grown on her. She hadn’t come into contact with him immensely often, Hux wanting to keep him away from the grittier side of his work that she was often involved in, but she could easily see the effect his existence had on Hux. If the influence of someone else was what Hux required to start becoming his own person then, from Phasma’s position as the closest thing to a friend that Hux had, that someone else had to be a pretty good person. And he was sweet, loathe as she was to admit her affection in that manner for anyone other than Rey.

Rey.

Sometimes she wanted to slap herself for her inability to put two and two together; she’d known that she recognised the boy in the photographs in the Solo-Organa house, how had she not been able to remember whose face those ridiculous ears and long nose reminded her of? That would have made everything so much simpler. “Hey Rey, I’ve found your missing cousin, my friend has been looking after him while we searched for his family,” sounds infinitely better than “Yes, that is your cousin who you've just seen be sexually assaulted, and no, my vicious criminal of a friend was only trying to help him, I swear.” Hux had saved her in this situation as well, Rey eagerly believing that her girlfriend had no knowledge of what had been going on. She had initially felt somewhat guilty about the white lie, but it was easier than hoping to God that she would understand.

So life for Phasma continued in much the same way as her relationship with Rey began to thaw again from the initial awkwardness that had occurred immediately After Kylo, or Ben, as Rey called him. Phasma could never quite bring herself to think of him as Ben though. Ben was the child in the photographs, the damaged adult was Kylo, and the immense differences between the two allowed for very little blurring in her mind.

As months passed by, she could see that Hux was set in his downward spiral of drinking more in order to think less. He was haunted by his own memories of the victim he had fallen uncontrollably in love with, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever even admitted it to himself.

As for Kylo himself, from what Phasma managed to glean from Rey, he was hardly making the glorious recovery that his family appeared to have expected to occur simply by virtue of their presence in their son’s life again. She heard about his numerous breakdowns that were apparently getting worse. Times where he would zone out as though he wasn’t present in his own body, disassociation was the word her brain had supplied, times where he’d cower beneath his parents as muscle memory and flashbacks told him that they’d hit him sooner or later, times where an anger that Phasma couldn’t recall seeing in him would surface to mow down everything around him. She hadn’t quite believed this at first, but the more that Rey mentioned tales of “Ben” and his newly discovered fury, the more it began to make sense. It had to have been there somewhere, however much it had been beaten down. He’d been damaged, but never quite broken; it was there. If that anger found its escape through a hockey stick and some patio doors, then so be it.

Skywalker Senior seemed to be the only one seeing straight, something which certainly gave Phasma an increased respect for him. It took two months of persuasion from Luke to get his nephew into therapy. Leia felt guilty and wanted to regain her motherhood through fixing him herself, Han had taken a step back since the book incident and allowed his wife to dictate the best plan for their son on his and Kylo’s behalf.

So off to therapy he’d gone, and engaged not one bit for the first few sessions, which was apparently reason enough to halt the process altogether. Phasma felt a kind of kinship with Luke due to a shared need to bash their heads against a brick wall.

Every so often, she’d talk to Hux about Kylo, feeding him little updates as to how he was getting on, making sure to only mention things that were at least somewhat positive as she was wary of making him feel guilty about letting him go. Of all the things Hux felt about losing him, luckily guilt wasn’t one of them, and she’d much rather keep it that way. He seemed to latch onto the pieces of information like a smoker would grip onto their last cigarette on death row, but at least it perked him up just a bit.

She thought that maybe he needed something to care for to give him purpose and so one day, about six months After Kylo, she found her way to an animal shelter while Rey was in a lecture. Her girlfriend still hadn’t forgiven Hux, and she wasn’t sure that she ever would, so she begrudgingly had to keep her relations with him as covert as she could. It wasn’t like Rey would stop her from seeing him, but it still wasn’t a battle that she was willing to have.

She wandered amongst the cages for a while, hoping to God that this would be appreciated by Hux and that it would help him somewhat, even if only slightly. She’d never really been a cat person herself, so this was all new to her. What was the difference between a Devon Rex and a Maine Coon? She had no idea. She thought cats came in various colours, but breeds were a step too far and she had no idea what would suit Hux. That was until she saw the haughtiest looking ginger cat she’d ever laid her eyes on.

“Millicent” was a ginger Norwegian forest cat, a creature with more fur than body, but still twice the size of any other cat she’d seen, and an absolute dead-ringer for Hux. Or, as much as a cat could be. She had noticed the relived look of the shelter staff as she walked out with the animal, but simply hoped that maybe a kindred spirit in Hux would set both him and the cat on a slightly more positive path. Maybe.

* * *

Hux was surprised when Phasma’s name lit up his phone, but he would have to admit that he was glad for it. Any break from his own thoughts was a positive interruption, particularly from the force of nature who was quickly becoming his only real point of human contact again.

He remained in his usual state of numbness as she beckoned him out to her car and handed him “Millicent”, a warm ball of fur who buried herself into his arms while still looking at him suspiciously. She was lovely, but he couldn’t help the voice in the back of his head that reminded him how pathetic he must be for his second-in-command to try and fix him with a fucking cat. Nor could he stop the ache in his chest as it felt a warmth pressed against it that reminded him so much of the past.

He wanted Ben, but the warmth of the creature that took his place in Hux’s bed was much appreciated, and he was glad for something that couldn’t tell others of his weakness and he pushed his face into her fur and sobbed himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOWEVER
> 
> I am going back to school/college tomorrow which means, unfortunately work. Real life is fast coming for me. Updates will probably have to be slower than my previous rate, but I'll try to stick to at least once a week, and always on a Tuesday or a Friday. Rest assured though that I will finish this damn thing because it's my baby and I love it.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	16. Chapter 16

The bathroom light flickered, and he rolled his eyes as he waited for it to settle down. Once he’d accepted that it was never going to stay on consistently, he leaned in close to the mirror and pulled an eyeliner pencil out of his pocket, lining them messily and smudging his work some more. His eyes were, he reckoned, the best part of a not-that-great face, and if he could draw attention to them and away from his snow-plow of a nose then he was going to do it. Besides, he liked the confusion he could see on people’s faces when they were confronted by the masculine body of a Greek god combined with the assumed femininity of eyeliner. It was pretty damn hilarious, he reckoned.

Boredom had taken over after nigh-on six months in his new replacement restraints. Six months of nothing but failed therapy and a mother who you could hardly remember acting as though, with enough isolation, he would spring back to how he was when he was ten, that her presence alone would fix him. She had no idea what to do when he lost control of himself, be that based in fear that caused him to regress to his old methods of appeasement and make everyone in the room feel instantly uncomfortable (though seemingly unable to understand that if they were uncomfortable, he was likely feeling utterly humiliated), or based in anger and frustration that had been building within him for years and was periodically released on a wall or a door or a chair. His father had suggested that maybe he needed to go out and leave the house, a surprisingly good idea considering its source, but one that was initially shot down by Leia, until exasperation caused her to give in, even if only for the sake of getting him out of her hair for a while.

Han had then suggested that maybe he needed some exercise, considering his severe lack of the it for almost a decade, and so dragged his begrudging son to a gym. As it turned out though, he fell in love quickly with pushing his body to its limits, running until he wanted to throw up and then going some more. Leanness wasn’t his aim though; being slim made him vulnerable, reminded him of things he’d been told, every time he looked in the mirror, _“I could snap you, you little whore”_. Luckily enough for him though, his efforts had caused some interest to be taken in him, and he was approached by a guy called Jasper who offered to show him how to lift weights.

Jasper was a pretty good guy, he thought. With his help, he was able to go from almost scrawny to ripped in a surprisingly short period of time, which pushed the thoughts of his own weakness from his mind as well as making Leia back off. She would try to control him before, but now, after two years of her plan failing, she seemed to know that he wasn’t prepared to just roll over and take it anymore. _“Well he certainly is a pretty one, if a bit skinny for my taste. Though I imagine that makes him easier to handle.”_  He could remember it being said so clearly, but not who had been the one to say it. Regardless; he knew the tactic now, he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

He was introduced to Jasper’s friends who welcomed him into their circle readily enough to make him feel giddy with happiness, that these people might actually want him. They treated him like a normal person; they had no reason not to. Telling them about himself between the ages of eleven and nineteen wasn’t exactly a great way to make them like him, and so stayed firmly off of his to-do list.

He drank for the first time with them and they laughed with him as they shoved his shoulder and called him a lightweight. He built up his tolerance along with his body as he pushed himself to fit in. He went to a club for the first time with them and even managed to not panic at the crowd surrounding him. He built up his tolerance for that as well. He started going out more and staying out later, not caring where they went as long as they took him with them.

He didn’t care when he found out they each did various drugs, as long as they let him stay with them. If that took following by example sometimes, then fuck it; he’d do it. He was too high to care when Charlie told him that they also shifted some cocaine and MDMA through the city for money sometimes. Of course he’d help; they were his friends.

He snapped himself out of his introspective daze and checked himself over for the last time before leaving. It’d do, he didn’t look so awful. He’d look better if he could shove a paper bag over his head, but alas; there was no way he could do that. He turned off the light as he left the bathroom and jogged down the stairs and almost made it out of the front door unscathed. Almost.

“Ben, where are you going?” He grit his teeth and took a deep breath before turning to face his mother.

“Out, don’t know where. And how many times do I have to tell you to not call me that?” It took self-restraint to remain monotone, his anger bubbling under the surface. She did this every time, and every time she got the same response. Why did she bother wasting both her and his time?

“I’m not calling you…”

“Kylo.”

“I’m not calling you that because it’s not your name. It’s what _he_  called you; I don’t understand why you insist on everyone using it. And why have you got that stuff all over your eyes again? You look ridiculous.” He couldn’t be bothered with this; he’d already explained it far too many times. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that he wasn’t still Ben; Ben had died the first time his face had been shoved into a mattress and his knees forced apart. He’d never go back to what she wanted him to be, so he might as well remain as what he had become, and what he’d become was Kylo Ren. Besides, it wasn’t his first master’s voice he heard when someone called him Kylo. It was nights on a rooftop gazing at constellations, it was Rigel, Watership Down. It was a man who he’d never had to do anything for, and yet would have done anything for.

But what was the use of thinking about that now? Those six months of being watched like a mournfully maternal hawk must have been long enough for Hux to have moved on. He still slept with Wonders of the Universe under his pillow, placing it there after re-reading the note on page seventy-nine at least twice. He could have recited it by heart after a day of being separated from Hux, something he could still do perfectly and did sometimes. When he was feeling stressed, or angry, or anxious, or frustrated, he liked to repeat it to himself, to pretend that Hux was saying it himself, that he was curled up with an arm around his slim waist, or could bury his face into his chest and be calmed by the scent of his expensive cologne as he stroked his hair and told him that everything would be alright. It was a fantasy that could never happen again, and bittersweet in its comfort. But hey; a man can dream.

He ignored his mother, and slammed the door on his way out.

* * *

 

It was a warehouse this time, after thankfully less than an hour in a grimy club that Kylo really didn’t care for. Levi told him they were picking up some new stock, as the three of them referred to it and Kylo copied. He’d been making an effort to pick up on their mannerisms and language and he’d been doing pretty well so far; he might say he was almost fluent. Almost wasn’t good enough in these situations, however, so he knew to keep his mouth shut.

A smartly-dressed woman appeared out of a door to the side of the building and beckoned them in after her. It seemed to be the usual chain of events, but Kylo had to ignore his gut churning as though something was out of place. Stay calm, don’t fuck this up, they won’t want to know you if you fuck this up.

He realised he should have listened to his instinct however, when the door behind them was instantaneously locked as they walked through and a man bearing a handgun appeared from behind the only other door in the surprisingly small room. They were told that they were going to play along and not put up a fight, Levi shouting obscenities as he discovered he didn’t even have a pistol on him, and Kylo had never trusted himself with guns.

Kylo let his mind go blank as he was tied up and sat on a chair next to Levi, who had put up considerably more of a fight but ultimately lost, ending up just as incapacitated as Kylo, except with the added extra of having a piece of cloth taped into his mouth as a gag. He managed to make out some of what was being said. Something something taking what wasn't theirs, something something keeping it for themselves, something something Jasper and Charlie. It vaguely made sense in his mind; these were the people who the other three shifted stock for, someone had been stealing from it before it was sold on, and Jasper and Charlie had blamed him and Levi.

That made sense. Who had he been kidding, of course they’d not cared enough to not throw him under the bus. Why would anyone. He wasn’t even surprised enough to be anything more than a bit disappointed; he hadn’t been enough for Rey when they were eleven, he hadn’t been enough for his first master when he sold him on, he hadn’t been enough for his parents when he went back to them. A damaged whore would never be enough for anyone.

He wished that they’d just get on with it, though. Shoot him, or beat the shit out of him, he would take either stoically if it just meant it’d be over with. But no, apparently that wasn’t how these people worked. He vaguely registered that the woman was now on the phone with someone, and he clocked a few words. A few “yes sir”s, “no sir”s and “of course, whatever you want, sir”s. The meaning of it, however, was too far out of his grasp for him to bother even attempting to understand, so he allowed himself to retreat completely inside his head, blocking out almost any semblance of reality as he continued his own introspection.

Maybe if they did shoot him, he wouldn’t have to keep consistently disappointing people. If they didn’t shoot him, maybe it would be a good idea to find a conveniently high bridge somewhere and see if he could fly. This had been his last chance to be worthy for someone’s loyalty and kindness, he’d told himself, and he’d fucked it up, so he’d just have to accept that maybe it wasn’t meant to be and that maybe the words that sometimes echoed in his skull were right after all.

 _“You deserve to be twenty feet deep in the river with a bullet wound in your skull.”_ It hadn’t been that bad an assessment, to be fair to his former master. There was another voice that echoed in response, although its power had been steadily waning along with his hope.

 _“No one deserves that, Kylo.”_ That memory was becoming a bit blurry around the edges. Exact words were escaping him, but the meaning behind them had stuck with him even as a bitter edge grew and a nauseous sense of loss became attached to them.

_“I love you, Ben Solo. Please, don’t forget that.”_

That was probably the clearest he could remember. He let it play through his mind, behind his eyes, narrowing, narrower, narrower, more real.

I love you, Ben Solo. Please, don’t forget that.  
I love you, Ben Solo. Please, don’t forget that.  
I love you, Ben Solo. Please, don’t forget that.  
I love you, Ben Solo.  
I love you, Ben Solo.

There was a hand on his shoulder now that he wished wasn’t there when all he wanted was to block reality out and listen to the voice in his memories.

I love you, Ben Solo.  
I love you, Ben Solo.  
I love you, Ben.  
I love you, Ben.

The voice was changing. The voice never changed. Louder. Sharper. The voice was changing. The hand on his shoulder was shaking him now.

I love you, Ben.  
Ben.  
Ben.  
Ben.  
Ben.

Bright colour flashed in front of his eyes and he couldn’t tell if they were watering or if he was crying.

Ben.  
Ben.

He knew he’d lose eventually, but by now the voice sounded so real and he so wanted the illusion.

Ben.  
Ben.  
Ben.  
Ben.  
Ben.

He slowly forced himself out of himself, his eyes gradually opening and leaving him sat incapacitated as his brain raced to process his surroundings again. His eyes fell to the arm that was attached to the hand on his shoulder, and moved along it, reaching the slim body on the other end of it. They then went upwards and he almost laughed at his own ineptitude. He was still deep inside his own head, he had to be. He couldn't even wake himself back up. Green eyes that could be so, so sharp were warm as they tried to make contact with his own overly-soft brown ones and another hand reached up and held his face with a gentleness that didn’t belong anywhere near Kylo.

Maybe he was dreaming. He’d wake up in ten minutes and forget any of this had happened in thirty.

Maybe he was dead. Perhaps this was the afterlife.

“Ben?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't realise that [this](http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/04/27/bbc-remake-watership-down-with-less-violence-to-avoid-scarring-c/) was a thing until yesterday, and the only conclusion I can come to is that I'm an oracle. Anyway, John Boyega in Watership Down.
> 
> @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr


	17. Chapter 17

Hux had just really needed to get out of his house. He’d been driving himself mad over shipping logistics and that was before he’d even tried to sort out the group of politicians and police chiefs and the like that were currently on his payroll and yet determined to make a nuisance out of themselves. He’d hardly left his computer for three days, save for fetching coffee and stealing a few hours here and there for sleep. He was dead on his feet, restless and developing cabin fever, and had even managed to irritate Millicent with his foul mood enough that she was spitefully ignoring him again. Not that he blamed her.

Finally, at 1AM, a text came through and Hux snapped. He needed to do something else before he drove himself to forcing a fork into an electrical socket out of desperation to just end it all. The message was from one of his interrogators asking for his go-ahead for her to begin on some possible thieves or something along those lines; he couldn’t quite tell when his mind felt like it was being overtaken by static, but decided that he’d tell her to wait, and go there himself. Nothing seemed to wake him up better than gratuitous violence and the reminder that he was in fact alive, but could be stripped of that status rather quickly.

It didn’t take him long to get there, and after maybe twenty minutes at a push he was jumping out of the Land Rover he’d taken to driving again and went to key in the code on the door to let himself into the warehouse. The car was admittedly quite conspicuous but it was one of the few things that reminded him of home, a home which he’d only intended to be away from for a short period of time but had then found himself unable to leave, anchored down by a fear of losing hope and desperation to stay at least in the same country as someone he didn’t suppose he could ever have again. He forced that out of his mind as always and took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Nothing seemed out of place, except maybe the interrogator, a woman whose name he only had as Howard in his phone which he assumed was her surname, leaning on the wall with an almost absentminded look on her face while the guard gradually fell asleep stood up. They both jumped as he entered the room with a practised posture and shoulder pads to help him cut the intimidating figure he wished he had, the three of them not actually paying the two men tied up with their backs to the door that much attention.

“Howard, good to see you. Have there been any developments since we last spoke?” He didn’t suppose there would be, considering how at-ease they'd seemed. Or at least he hoped they’d actually paid some attention before almost falling asleep on the job.

“Not really, Sir. The one on the left put up some fight when Paulie tried to tie him down,” she gestured towards the muscled gunman, “but not really any more than expected. The one on the right though, that was a bit weird. He’s a pretty big guy, might have given a fair fight, but he didn’t. He just seemed to go… Like, sort of floppy. He doesn’t seem to be all there, if I’m honest. Just kinda looks through you. I’m glad you came, Sir, I don’t know if he’s, y’know. Mentally,” Howard grimaced as she moved her hand back and forth next to the top of her head. “I wouldn’t want to do something to some guy with learning problems that's been set up. What do you think?”

Hux nodded as she spoke. He could see where she was coming from, but due to years in the position he was in and being raised by his father, he was also liable to be careful of taking things at face value, and had more of a brutal streak in his little finger than this woman currently had from head to toe. But he’d check, just to be sure.

He looked across to the two broad-backed bodies he could see, both too large to fit entirely into the plastic chairs they were tied to. They seemed calm, or at least quiet, though the one on the right looked more out of it than at peace with what was about to happen. His head was hung as if his spine just couldn’t bear to hold it up anymore, allowing a mane of black hair to cascade around his face and obscure it from view. Well that was just what he needed, yet more reminders of his own losses. Great. But he was here now, and there was no way he could back out, so on the show must go.

Taking a moment to check his posture and facial expression were both up to par, he slowly walked around so that he was in front of the chairs, first turning his attention to the man who seemed to be faring normally with what he was currently experiencing. He wasn’t struggling anymore, not after an hour of being tied up and getting nowhere closer to escaping, but his eyes were full of hatred and passion as Hux came and knelt down in front of him. He made a point of burning holes into him with his own eyes and inspecting him silently for longer than must have been comfortable before smirking in a manner that he’d previously been told made him look rather like a fox with sharks’ teeth, and pulling back up to his full height in order to move away from him and towards what he assumed what his friend. The guy with Ben’s hair. He couldn’t help but feel a bitterness towards him, simply for daring to remind him of Ben, but he mentally reprimanded himself for it; it wasn’t like it was the man’s fault.

It did really look like the hair he’d wrapped his fingers around so many times, but he refused to let himself think any further about it. He really did. He swore.

The man really did seem to be in a complete daze, which wasn’t a response he could say he’d ever seen before. Maybe Howard was right; he could very well be handicapped in some way, which might mean that interrogating him would be pointless and therefore not something that Hux would really want to go ahead with.

He knelt down in front of this one more slowly than he had the first time and with a touch more softness to his face. When he received absolutely no reaction from the man tied up in front of him, he reached out a careful hand and pushed his chin up until he could see his face.

Hux knew that he was frozen in place with uncharacteristically wide eyes. This had to be some joke, God was playing with him as revenge for his many unrepented wrongs. But Jesus Christ, he looked so much like Ben. Overly large ears and a nose that long, the moles he could have mapped out in his sleep and those eyes that he could remember being so warm, but also so scared, so, so scared, but now just looked empty.

It was him. After two years, it was him.

Phasma had stopped telling him about Ben about six months after he’d left and when Hux would ask, she would simply grimace and tell him that she was so sorry but she just had nothing to tell him. She didn’t know what had happened to him and apparently neither did Rey; he’d had no idea what that might have meant at the time, but now he could imagine it. Ben had gone out looking for someone that would give him something other than parental suffocation and had found himself falling in with questionable people. Hux remembered how eager to please he’d always been, it was easy to see how that might translate. He chose to ignore the fact that Ben hadn’t come to him instead. It didn’t matter, he was here now.

Hux moved his hand from Ben’s jaw to his shoulder and gently moved it back and forth in an attempt to rouse him, to no avail, and knew that his frustration and desperation must be showing on his face.

“Sir? Sir, are you-” he raised his other hand to silence Howard. He’d deal with her later, but for now he was like a German shepherd with his sights locked onto a target; now he could see it, he wasn’t going to let it go. His shaking became more vigorous as he ignored the movements and noises being made by the other bound man.

“Ben? Ben, are you there? Ben?” No response. He could hardly even see him blinking. “You do remember me, don’t you Ben?” Tears were biting at the corner of his eyes, but he forced them back down. He had to come around at some point, surely, and Hux didn’t want to be in tears when that happened. He hadn’t been empty for two years to not be able to see when life returned to Ben’s eyes. “Remember sitting on the balcony, pointing at stars. You showed me Orion and told me about Rigel, and Titan, and Andromeda, and in return I read to you.” He bit his lip and paused for a moment to catch his breath from between the sobs that were threatening to rise up his throat.

“You loved Macbeth. You could recite whole chunks of it, complete soliloquies, purely because of how often I read it to you. And then one day you asked me what it all meant. I asked why you enjoyed it so much if you didn’t understand it, and you said that you just wanted to hear me talk, Ben. I remember that.”

He fell silent again for a moment. Maybe he should just leave him for a moment, give his brain a chance to process anything that it was going to before bombarding him with anything else. Maybe he needed to be untied to allow him to become present again. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to see Hux.

He sighed and let his own head drop with the weight of his guilty mind. Why would Ben want to see him. It wasn’t like he’d had any choice but to get on with Hux while he was in his care; it was an extension of his Stockholm syndrome and Hux must have been a fool to have ever tricked himself into thinking otherwise, and-

His head shot up again when he heard familiar ragged breathing from above him. Ben had lifted his own head and closed his eyes, almost as though he was psyching himself up for his return to the world outside his mind.

His eyes eventually flickered open and confusion fell across his face as he began to recognise Hux, his eyes having traced up his arm until they met his face. Much to Hux’s dismay, the confusion began to slip into something close to despair as he watched his face, his eyes becoming damp with tears and brows pulled tightly together.

“Ben?” Hux knew he was almost whispering now.

“You can’t feel pain in dreams, can you?” Ben’s voice was strained, but it was still so very him that Hux just wanted to collapse into a sobbing heap, but he forced himself to answer.

“I don’t think so. At least, I never have.” His face seemed to relax at least a bit at that, but his eyes still seemed dangerously vulnerable, a sharp contrast now to the body he had carved for himself.

“My wrists hurt.”

“Then you must not be dreaming.” Ben’s eyes dropped back to the floor as the rest of his body started to shake. Hux instinctively moved his hand back up to cup his jaw and used to other to trace soft circles over his cheekbone in a way that he remembered always used to calm him down when he started to panic or worry. An awkward silence fell between them, but the way that Ben’s eyes continued to move, widening and narrowing as he worried at his lip with his teeth let Hux know that he was desperate to say something that he was holding back for some reason or another. Most likely, he was terrified.

Finally he seemed to boil over with conflict and mental contradiction, his words almost bursting out of him.

“Please Hux, please don’t hurt me. I didn’t do anything, I swear. Honest, I didn’t take anything, I didn’t, please-” Hux quickly pushed his fingers through Ben’s hair and Ben pushed his head up into the contact as tears began to flow freely down his face.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright. I know you didn’t do anything. I know. You’re okay now. Would you like me to untie you?” He nodded his head vigorously in response and Hux glanced up towards a very shellshocked-looking Howard and guard, Howard quickly grabbing a knife from a table at the side of the room that was adorned with all manner of interrogation tool, and came forward to roughly slice through the ropes holding Ben in place.

Ben immediately threw his arms forward, making Howard and the guard both flinch towards their guns, and wrapped his arms around the back of Hux’s neck and buried his face into his shoulder as he began sobbing uncontrollably. Hux could only wait until he gradually calmed down, all of the energy in him expended and leaving him quietly sniffling as Hux’s hand steadily rubbed circles into his back.

“You’re coming with me now. You can stay with me overnight, if you’d like. Does that sound good?” Ben nodded again, but this time his eyes were almost lit up and Hux could feel himself buzz with the war of emotions within him fighting for the largest part of his attention and leaving him simply overwhelmed.

He wasn’t going to let go now. He knew how it felt to lose him, and there was no way he was going to let that happen again. Not while Hux was still breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we might be ready to get somewhere, woot woot.
> 
> @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr, pls be my friend, I thrive on attention.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay; just suddenly got hit with four essays so this had to take a backseat for a moment.
> 
> Before you continue however, please consider listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwRnW89EsxI). It's not directly linked to this chapter exactly, but I listened to it again recently and I just feel like it really fits the whole thing in a way, and I just wanted to share it here :)

After ignoring his employees’ disbelieving stares as he tried his best to hold up a barely-present and still-hyperventilating Ben (God, when did he get so _big_?) and helping him limp to the door, Hux ordered them to let the other man go, saying that he would sort it out personally, and struggled his way back to his car. Ben seemed to instantly relax as soon as he sat in the passenger seat, his breathing slowing and his heightened temperature gradually returning to a normal level. His face was still stained with tear-tracks that Hux knew would always pull at his heart just so, particularly when that face was then buried in his chest in such a familiar way and arms with a physical strength that was doing a poor job of hiding their mind’s weakness wrapped around his waist. He let his own chin drop to his chest and pressed soft kisses to the head of long, black hair that had haunted his quietest moments for the past two years. It took him some time to escape from Ben’s grip, having to leave him shaking and mewling needily for the ten seconds it took him to make it to the other side of the car and seat himself next to him, followed by Ben quickly pressing the back of his head into Hux’s shoulder like a puppy starved of affection.

The short journey home was silent in a way which Hux couldn’t quite decide was awkward or not. He began to lose himself in his thoughts, almost running on autopilot until he managed to catch himself and drag his mind back to the road in front of him, although his introspection was turning out to have no real purpose as he couldn’t force himself to organise his thoughts and any attempt at formulating a plan came to naught. Next to him, Ben seemed to be close to falling asleep, trying to fold his overly-long and now overly-muscular frame into the car seat, an odd sight which Hux had to admit he found incredibly endearing. Not that Ben had ever not been; the scared little creature he had been simply made somewhat of a juxtaposition to this honed weapon of a body he saw next to him, however he was sure that he was just as anxious now as he had been when he had first seen him almost three years ago. Not quite as terrified, perhaps, but nor had the two years of separation seen Ben’s transition to the confidence and power that his physicality now had the potential to command.

After what seemed like hours, but was in fact only twenty minutes in reality, Hux turned the car’s engine off and sighed, letting his eyes close and his head fall back against the seat behind him. His chest tightened with a sense of bitter-sweetness as he felt a weight lower awkwardly onto his lap and his hand blindly fumbled for purchase in Ben’s hair.

“I can’t imagine that that’s comfortable. You’ve got a gearstick and a handbrake pressing into your ribs.” He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that his broad chest wouldn’t be able to fit sideways without it hurting him, particularly considering that he seemed to have allowed himself to fall almost boneless.

“Don’t mind.” Silence fell between them again, but this time Hux didn’t even have to question that he felt completely at home in it, although that didn’t stop his mind whirring.

“You never called me. I thought you hated me.” There was no aggression in his voice, not even disappointment. It was simply a statement.

“They wouldn’t let me at first. By the time they let me go I thought you’d have moved on, wouldn’t want to talk to me.” Hux had missed his voice, the thick quality it had to it, a lack of surety combined with a deepness that, like so much else about him, Hux had always thought had potential to be so commanding. Intimidating, even. But he had always appreciated vulnerability and he’d be lying if he said otherwise. “I’d never hate you. I missed you. Always missed you.”

“I didn’t move on. I kept seeing you everywhere. At first it was only when I was dreaming. Then it moved to nightmares, and then even when I was awake, I’d see someone with hair like yours, and I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you for hours. I couldn’t decide whether I had done the right thing by you or if I should never have let you go. Kept moving between the two until I accepted that I’d never know. I just hoped that you knew that I’d tried.” He opens his eyes slowly and lifts his head up again to see Ben’s eyes gazing up at him intently, still clouded slightly by tears. “Come on, you need to rest.”

* * *

 

Hux’s muscles remembered clearly the feeling of Ben lying behind him in bed, his arm wrapped around his waist with warmth that was coming back to Hux’s own memory as they lay there. Unlike three years ago, Ben had had no chance whatsoever of fitting into Hux’s pyjamas and so he was having to sleep solely in boxers. Hux himself had stripped his shirt off under the transparent lie of feeling too hot. Honestly, he wanted to fulfil at least part of his desperate need for closeness and skin-to-skin contact with this man who he’d missed so much. It was so close now after two years of separation that he felt that if he didn’t get it, he’d burn up into oblivion. He had an inkling that Ben was feeling something not so dissimilar himself, so he didn’t feel bad for his slight attempt at deception.

“I still have the book you gave me, you know. The Brian Cox one with that note in the cover and your phone number on page seventy-nine.” He was whispering into the dark from behind Hux, who kept his eyes shut and allowed the words to sink into his tired, oh so tired, brain. “I re-read it so many times, I could probably recite it by heart now. I know that you might not believe me but I thought about you every day. Felt like I was trapped, but it was worse than before, in a way, because I knew what you felt like and then you weren’t there.”

“I believe you.”

“Then you weren’t there and I knew that it was becoming such a long time and I know that people change and I was worried that you wouldn’t want me back. And that maybe you were only ever there because you felt sorry for me or that I imagined that you felt more for me than you did because I just wanted it so much.” Words were failing Hux, so he did what he thought was probably the next best thing and twisted around onto his other side so that he was facing Ben and allowed himself to press his face into Ben’s shoulder. Breathing in deeply, he was hit by the memory of a scent that was so essentially Ben that it made him want to sob. He wrapped his arm around Ben’s chest, tying them together like ropework between their limbs.

He hadn’t realised how tense the other man had gradually become until he suddenly relaxed, as though releasing all of the emotion and effort that had become pent up in his frame in one quick moment, allowing himself to collapse onto his back on the mattress and let his muscles relax. Hux shifted himself so that he was half lying on top of Ben’s chest, his head on his shoulder still and with his arm wrapped around Hux’s own shoulders as if to hold him in place and never let him go. He knew it was somewhat ridiculous considering Ben’s fragility and Hux’s power, but he made him feel safe.

“I love you.” Hux whispered eventually, unsure as to whether or not Ben was still conscious to hear it. His question was soon answered when he felt the chest beneath his head rumble and heard a mumbled “- love you too.” and he finally felt as though the missing part of himself had returned to him after so long.

* * *

 

Kylo never felt this calm when he woke up in the morning. His mind was usually already buzzing before he even opened his eyes. And yet, here he was, feeling strangely at peace with himself and only a wordless feeling as an explanation.

Upon opening his eyes, however, after a minor confused moment of panic in regards to where he actually was, the night before came flooding back to him, making him glad that he only had as far as the distance between his raised torso and the bed beneath him to fall as he became overwhelmed by the rush of thoughts and implications. Hux. Hux had found him and taken him home and looked after him and held him and let him hold him and told him he loved him. He wasn’t there at that moment which made Kylo’s breath catch in his throat for a second until he looked over to the bedside table and found a note, along with a clock that told him that it was not, in fact, morning, but two in the afternoon. According to the note, Hux had gone downstairs to make some phone calls and hadn’t wanted to wake Kylo (Ben) up when he’d clearly been beyond exhausted. He couldn’t help but smile at the warmth he felt rising in his chest from just seeing Hux’s handwriting in a form that wasn’t the same note he’d been reading every day for two years, and that wasn’t worn away somewhat from being traced repeatedly by longing fingers.

Kylo pushed himself out of bed and threw on his shirt from the day before, glad for the lack of damage that it, and apparently he, had received. He tried to creep quietly through the house which he still remembered clearly, not wanting to disturb Hux while he was on the phone or doing work-related stuff.

“There you are! Oh, I missed you darling!” Kylo froze when he heard the voice. Darling? Who was Hux calling “his darling”? Saying he had missed them, like he had with Kylo the night before. And he sounded so much happier saying it to whoever than he had last night. Oh God, he’d fucked up. Of course Hux didn’t love him, not really. As ever, he was just saying something to make him feel better. Why would he want someone else’s damaged goods? Oh God oh God oh fuck fuck fuck-

Kylo was now gripping onto the stone bannister of the staircase as he tried to stop himself from folding over and retching. He had to just leave. Thank Hux for being so kind to him when he hadn’t really deserved it and leave before he began to impede upon him and whoever it was that he was talking to.

“Oh, I do love you, and don’t you know it?” Kylo didn’t even notice his teeth tearing his bottom lip to shreds. He pushed his shoulders back and stood up straight, but was unable to quite pull himself back from the verge of tears and so had to leave himself precariously balanced just on the edge as he tried to fake confidence before walking towards the source of the voice.

He carefully opened the door to the kitchen with his speech prepared in his head and was greeted by Hux’s back but no sign of another person, and he didn’t look like he was on the phone, so who in God’s name-

“Oh, you’re up. Did you sleep alright?” Hux turned his head towards Kylo and smiled as he nodded mutely in response. “I should probably introduce you to avoid any confusion,” he said as he moved his body so that all of him was now facing Kylo, a ball of orange fur curled up in his arms, though it certainly looked larger than the average three year old and had a face that looked like it wanted the world to burn. “This is Millicent, she’s not actually awful, contrary to what her face may have you believe.” He was smiling so broadly, he looked so honest and Kylo couldn’t help but hate himself. He’d gotten worked up over a cat. A fucking cat. He’d thought the worst of someone who’d only ever been good to him because he’d dared to tell his cat that he loved her.

Hux’s brow furrowed as he saw Kylo’s lip begin shaking and he leant down to let the cat go before quickly walking to Kylo and moving his hands to either side of his face, his thumbs rubbing lightly across his cheekbones as he gently pulled him down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you Ben. It’s alright, I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a slow disappointment, and for that I apologise :')

Kylo was in seventh heaven, exactly where he’d wanted to be for the past three years; curled up with his head on Hux’s lap as the ginger man stroked his hair in a way that made shivers run down his spine and reminded him of nights spent reading Shakespeare and Brian Cox, before he’d had to go back to his parents. He still resented them for stealing the last two years from them, though Hux insisted it had been his fault as he’d done what he thought Kylo had needed by sending him back, but he couldn’t say that he blamed him. Han and Leia should never have let it happen in the first place. If they’d have listened to him when he’d cried and told them that the other kids at school laughed at him, that their words had hurt, that even Rey didn’t want to be guilty by association with someone who must have had something fundamentally wrong with him if he was the one they’d singled out for sly punches in corridors by people older than him and who felt like they must have been twice his size. If they’d not made him go when tears streamed down his apparently ugly, disproportionate face in the morning, done something, anything, to stop it rather than telling him that words couldn’t leave bruises and just punching them back would solve his problems. If they’d done anything then he wouldn’t have been walking down a dark back-alley all alone. They might have picked someone else for eight years of torment.

But then he would never have found Hux. Or, more accurately, Hux would never have found him. Maybe, in a round-about way, he should thank them for something after all.

He felt at peace finally, able to slip back into clarity as all of the conflict and anger in his mind fell into place and he focussed all of his thoughts, at their base, on how much he loved Hux, how glad he was to have him back after so long, and that warm feeling of contentment that had spread across his chest. This is what he needed, he reckoned. Someone does not spend eight years under the complete control of someone else and then adjust perfectly and cope well with being thrown out into the big wide world without the safety net, direction, and purpose given by submitting emotionally to someone bigger than themselves. For him, that person was always bound to be Hux. Maybe now he’d put it into words in his own mind, it might make an iota more sense to Leia when she screamed pleading questions about why he wanted to go back to “that monster”. Just saying that he loved him had never worked, regardless of the fact that it was true. She’d always asked why, and “because he loved me” had never washed with her either. Not that it mattered. Now he was here, and he knew that Hux still cared about him, had never stopped, he said, nothing else and no one else mattered.

As long as Hux was there to give him delicate orders and look after him, Kylo knew that he would go to the ends of the Earth for the man. His newfound mental clarity also extended to the new knowledge that he’d kill for Hux if he asked him to.

“You’re going to have to move for a moment, Ben. Just until the circulation returns to my leg.” His voice was soft and Kylo loved that he didn’t feel an ounce of rejection. He sat up, bringing his own legs up onto the sofa and crossing them like a child in a school assembly, and turning to face the object of his complete adoration. “You’re so much larger than you were, heavier.” Kylo’s brows furrowed.

“Is that bad?”

“Not at all. It suits you though, your frame did always look too broad for you when you were underweight. You look like you’ve… At the risk of sounding pretentious, you sound like you’ve actualised your potential. Or at least, are a lot closer to doing so than you were two years ago.” He let his face relax and a nervous smile ghost his lips.

“What does that mean? I- I get the general idea, though.” Now it was Hux’s turn to smile in a way that Kylo knew would have made his knees give way had he been standing up, and a hand reached forwards to cup Kylo’s jaw gently.

“Still so precious, aren’t you?” His hand moved to Kylo’s shoulder and lightly pulled him closer to him, Kylo taking the silent request and moving so that they were sat with their sides touching and rested his head on Hux’s shoulder and his arms wrapped around one of Hux’s. “It’s Aristotle, I’ll explain it to you sometime, when we both feel more up to actually using our intellects. For now though, I feel that’s a little beyond us.” Kylo hummed agreeably in response, the two of them then letting comfortable silence descend on the room again.

Hux was so warm. He felt like a cat curled up on a range cooker, no wonder Milly seemed so happy. He felt bad for his earlier assumptions about who Hux’s “darling” had been and the immediate flood of jealousy he’d felt when he’d seen the giant ginger ball of fur, teeth and claws sat purring in his Hux’s arms. She was actually nice, and he’d never liked cats much. He felt a level of camaraderie with her in a way, both of them saw something else in Hux than everyone else. He was no shark, no wolf with alligator’s teeth; he was what kept them alive and gave them reason to do so.  
“Ben-” Kylo’s arms tightened their grip, now unable to hide the twitch that the name caused, and Hux looked down at him in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I know that I asked you to call me Ben, but it just,” he gave himself a moment to order his thoughts before continuing. “I don’t like it anymore. I’m not Ben anymore. I was but then I changed, and there’s no way I can go back to who I was when I was eleven. Does that make sense? I know I can ramble sometimes, complicate things-”

“It makes sense, I think.” Hux frowned slightly before he spoke, but nodded as he did so, so he couldn’t have said something all that bad. “So do you go by-”

“Kylo.”

“Kylo.” Hux kissed Kylo’s hair before letting his head fall back and his eyes close. “I love you Kylo. I’ll never let you get away from me again.”

* * *

 

Hux had eventually had to stand up so that he could begrudgingly answer his phone and write at the same time, not that it was something that he wanted Ben- Kylo, even, to hear. He didn’t need to know any more about the gory details of Hux’s job than he had unfortunately already had to find out from experience. Though it did give him chance to think as the mountain of a man held a surprisingly content Millicent to his chest while Hux fired off various emails. Gave him a moment to ensure his wording was perfect.

“Are you awake?” He asked softly as he poked his head around his drawing room door, Kylo looking thoroughly peaceful with his eyes shut, features soft, and cat purring on his chest. The eyes opening slowly in a way that made Hux’s heart pound in his chest were enough of an answer for him as he moved to sit on the floor in front of the sofa that Kylo was curled up on. He made a move to sit up himself, but was soon stopped by a hand hovering above his shoulder and instead allowed himself to collapse back down under his own weight, his deep brown eyes wide with adoration. Hux didn’t need anyone else when Kylo would look at him like that and give him all the affirmation and love anyone could ever need.

“I want you to listen to me completely without panicking; I know what you’re going to be thinking when I start and believe me when I say that you don’t need to worry about that. Do you understand?” Kylo nodded slowly, confusion overtaking his expression. “Alright. You need to see your parents again,” There was the fear and panic he’d been worried about.

“You’re not going to leave me with them again, are you?” And there it was. At least he wasn’t in a frenzy, but he still looked as though his fragile little heart had taken its last knock.

“No, I’m never going to do anything like that again, I promise you, Kylo. Now I know that it didn’t help you at all, it’s never happening again, okay?” Kylo nodded erratically, which was good enough. “I’m not going to leave you with them, but I do feel like they’re owed at least a bit of an explanation. You can’t just disappear off their radar again, or they’ll think you’ve died.” Hux raised an eyebrow as Kylo mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out. “Hm?”

“I don’t care. They want to take me away from you. They deserve it.” His words were harsh but Hux couldn’t help but be slightly shocked at the lack of surety in his voice as he said them, like he was nervously forcing words to fit to ideas he’d hidden in his head for too long and was terrified of the repercussions of letting them out.

“It’s only because they love you. They might not do the right thing but I’m sure they’re trying, even if it might not seem like it.” He couldn’t bear to see Kylo go through life thinking anything else, even if Hux himself wasn’t entirely sure of the honesty in what he was saying. He’d never met Kylo’s parents, but the white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone, if it even was one. “I couldn’t have it on my conscience if they thought that you were dead in a ditch somewhere, and I don’t think that you honestly could, either.” Kylo whined wordlessly, but didn’t protest what had been said, which Hux saw as a victory.

“Not today though. Please, I’m not ready for that. She’ll shout, and he’ll shout, and I’m tired. So tired.” Hux reached his hand forwards again and smiled as Kylo pushed his head up into it, begging for affection like a needy puppy.

“Tomorrow.” He held Kylo’s head in place with the hand in his hair and leaned towards him, gently pressing his lips against Kylo’s. When the other made no attempt to pull away, he became more forceful, a jolt of energy shooting down his spine as Kylo mewled into his mouth desperately. Hux pulled away to allow Kylo to shift himself so that he was sitting upright, and climbed onto the sofa and into his lap, wrapping his legs around his hips. He suddenly felt so small and fragile in comparison to the shy Adonis beneath him and realised that honestly, he liked it.

His mind didn’t stop buzzing as he pulled Kylo’s head back towards his, returning to the kiss that he’d been so gutted to cut short and doubling his efforts to make up for the momentary loss. He deepened the contact as he began to lose any semblance of control he had over his racing mind or frenzied body, rolling his hips rhythmically, in time with the chorus in his head, _mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, never leave me again, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine,_  as Kylo’s suddenly overwhelmed, affection-starved, mind attempted to make sense of this sudden onslaught of welcome touch and emotions like supernovas exploding in his veins.

Hux knew he had this man’s absolute, unwavering loyalty, and if he hadn’t already been in the state he was, then he was sure that that thought alone would have been enough to drive him mad with lust. Together they’d be an unstoppable force, and Hux wouldn’t want or let it happen any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @lazarus-is-risen


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive, finally actually putting something new out :)  
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented on my last update for being so kind to me; you're all so lovely :) Thank you for sticking with this

The past three days had been a fresh hell. Three days of anxious pacing and clutching the phone until it had to be eased out of her hands as she sobbed into her husband’s arm. How could she have let this happen again? This time she couldn’t believe she would be so lucky again; her son had to be dead, if not yet then he couldn’t be far off.

She was now curled up in a blanket on her living room sofa in a bone-deep silence as she tried to let what felt like the inevitable sink in, and the ringing of the doorbell was more of a shriek that made her desperate to cover her ears and burrow into some hiding place. Her eyes remained closed but she attempted to listen in at least a bit as Han opened the door, knowing that he’d be ready with his gruff manner to send any Jehovah’s Witnesses or petition-toting students on their way with their tail between their legs, and was surprised enough to almost consider moving to find out what was happening when she heard no shouting or biting sarcasm coming from the door. She opened her eyes when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Please don’t blame me, Leia.” His face was stony but she didn’t have chance to even raise an eyebrow in question before the towering figure of her son slinked into the room, keeping his side to the wall and his head hung. She leapt up, still undecided as to whether she wanted to slap him or hug him, soon deciding that the latter was the safer option. She wrapped her arms around him as much as she could, unperturbed by his usual stiffness as she tried to pull herself back from the brink of tears and only just managing it, her resolve being tested even more when she felt an awkward, unsure hand reach around and pat her on the back.

“Ms Organa.” An ice-cold sickness was injected into her chest at the sudden interruption. Her hands tightened their grip on Ben’s arms but she knew she had to look at the man stood in the doorway. She couldn’t help the sinking feeling she had as to his identity and that was only amplified when she was able to bring herself to lean away from her son’s chest and moved so he was within her line of sight, being met with piercing green eyes. “I felt as though it would be remiss of me to not let you know where your son has been.”

* * *

 

Hux had Kylo’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist and his head resting on his shoulder as he attempted to placate Leia Organa and Han Solo. Being ever the overly-vigilant, he’d begun to assess each of the couple as soon as the shadow of Han had appeared behind the door. He hadn’t seemed to be all that physically intimidating, though the way in which Kylo was subtly trying to slip behind Hux as though he was a barrier was somewhat unnerving; he may still have been oversensitive to authority figures, but Hux couldn’t completely dismiss the possibility of there being grounding for his reaction. The fact that he’d actually heard of Han Solo and his man-mountain “business partner”, some French Canadian who some people swore they’d seen tearing arms out of sockets after a bad night at the poker table, was enough to set him on edge. Known in the import-export business, according to Phasma. Supposedly they could get you anything as long as you kept it quiet. He didn’t seem to be too much of a threat though, maybe because although he might be dubiously employed he didn’t seem to be all that complicated in his approach to Hux’s appearance on his doorstep. What really got his hackles up was Organa. Hardly a word had come from her in the time they had been sat in the Organa-Solo living room, she had simply watched coldly as her husband caved to the silent awkwardness of the situation and began babbling small-talk that all four of them knew he wasn’t interested in in the slightest.

Finally, Leia’s front appeared to snap as her gaze turned withering and was directed at Han, who quickly got the message to _shut his goddamn mouth before she knocked him out with a candelabra_.

“I thought he’d finally gotten away from you.” Her voice was quiet, hollow in a way which Hux could never mistake for weakness. “We’ve spent two years trying to make him better, get our son back, after you and whoever else fucked him up. You’re a monster. A monster who has somehow managed to dig his claws back into my son’s life and is intent on tearing him down again. And you have the gall to come to me to dig it in, the fact that you think you’ve won, and sit there with no expression on your face as though it doesn’t affect you at all? How dare you, you absolute scumbag?” She managed to stay perfectly still as she said all of this, though Hux could feel Kylo’s arms tighten around his waist and his jaw clench on his shoulder. He moved his hand to the small of Kylo’s back and gently rubbed it in circles.

“I understand why you think what you do, Ms Organa. I really do. And you’re well within your rights not to trust me, considering the circumstances, however I have no intentions whatsoever of hurting your son. Believe me, I couldn’t.” He looked her in the eye, attempting to let his guard down even slightly and allow his true emotions to show in front of this stranger. It was entirely against his nature, but he needed to prove his sincerity or he didn't think he’d ever sleep soundly again. She rolled her eyes disbelievingly as he spoke, but he tried to not let this panic him. “I don’t know how much you actually know about how I even met him.”

“You went to a slave auction and you bought him because you wanted a slave. How much else could there be to know?” Her tone gnawed anxiety into his stomach and he finally gave in to the exhaustion nagging him to just let go of the sharp-witted, sneering persona that clouded most of his interactions with those he didn’t know as though it was stained glass. His father would truly be disappointed in how he let his back slump and head drop as though he’d never been taught correct posture.

“You’d be surprised.” He forced himself to bring his head back up to look straight ahead again as he spoke, Kylo tilting his head to look at him with a face which was asking him if he was alright. “My family has been running an organised crime ring for hundreds of years. Political corruption, drug smuggling, assassinations, the whole shebang. All quietly ignored by the state, of course. At some point, we spread out into this country, and were thriving, as much as something like that could be described as thriving. However, in recent years, we started to be threatened when a… _group,_  called First Order started trying to vie for power. My father sent me over here to try and regain our control. Any in-route to them and their structure was good enough for me, I wanted to get it over and done with and go back to London. We were told of a possible occasion where I could get a foothold in their chain of command, get some intelligence, anything. I was told it was a gala, why would I question that?”

Hux ran a hand through his hair as a replacement for the rapid bouncing he could feel his leg desperate to do. This woman’s gaze was burning holes into him, though Kylo seemed to be becoming more at ease as he sat up and left himself with only one arm wrapped around Hux’s back, stroking his side in an attempt at comfort until Hux laced his fingers through Kylo’s.

“People started being lead onstage and honestly at the start I thought it was some obnoxious performance art piece. All of them were so lifeless, dead behind the eyes. Except Kylo. Or Ben, sorry,” He glanced sideways apologetically. “I’ll confess to still being lost with which you use when.” A small smile crept onto Kylo’s face.

“Ben here, probably.” He pushed his face into Hux’s arm, as if trying to avoid looking at his mother’s reaction to his input.

“Ben. He was struggling and whining and begging, he was still fighting. And I don’t know what possessed me but I couldn’t let that be torn apart, so I bought him.” He looked at Leia’s eyes again and could see the absolute fraction of change that occurred behind them.

“And you took him home with you?” Han spoke up, his voice straining as Hux nodded. “And then what? What were you doing with him for almost a year?”

“I tried to get him back to something resembling normality. Feeding him, for a start. He was about 120lbs at first, looked like he’d drop dead. Then I tried to… I guess desensitise is the right word, him to me.” Leia flinched and he soon realised his mistake. “Oh God, no. Not like that. I mean I tried to get him to stop treating me like I was his master, lessen how submissive he was; I wanted him to stop feeling like he was walking on eggshells and trying to avoid a beating that he assumed was always around the corner.”

“And not once did you consider that maybe you should call the police? Like maybe he should have gone back to the family that loved him?” Organa bit the words out as though she wanted them to become corporeal and Hux couldn’t help the defensive tone he took in response, tilting his head and frowning.

“How was I to know you loved him? I had no idea who you were, it wouldn’t have been that unrealistic, all things considered, for his parents to have been the ones who sold him in the first place. Now, obviously I can see that that wasn’t the case at all, but he couldn’t remember his surname, for Christ’s sake. He was vulnerable and I didn’t want to just send him back into it again. I wanted to look after him.”

Silence fell again, and Hux hated the uncertainty in it. All he wanted out of this was for Kylo to be able to have the relationship with his family that he’d been denied for nigh-on nine years, he needed Kylo to be happy. The man deserved it for the amount of times he’d gotten up and dusted himself off for the next round in a life which would have destroyed most people, he deserved all of the happiness Hux could give him, and he just hoped that the Organa-Solo-Skywalkers would help him.

“Come here, Ben.” Leia’s voice was tired. She was tired, done with fighting as she lifted her arm up as an invitation for her son to come and bury himself in her like the child he’d been used to. “Please.” Hux let go of his hand as encouragement for him to comply, encouragement he took as he tentatively made his way towards her and allowed himself to be pulled into her arms, even awkwardly attempting to reciprocate the embrace. He absolutely dwarfed her, and yet he still managed to seem so very small.

“Charlie and Jasper weren’t good, Mom. They blamed me for something they did, and Levi. Would’ve been killed if Hux wasn’t there. Sorry Mama. Sorry for disappearing again.” Leia leaned back and pulled his head down just enough to be able to kiss him on the forehead and look into his wide sad eyes before looking back to the ginger devil on her couch.

“I realise that I have no real choice in this. I can’t lock him away, I know he’ll find his way back to you. I’m not happy about this, and I don’t like you, but I know that really I can’t stop it. But if I find out that you’ve hurt him, then I’ll take you on, believe me I will. I’ll shout about this family outfit of yours until someone listens, and you’ll find out quite how invincible you really are, Armitage Hux. Hurt my son, and I’ll hurt you.”

"Understood, ma'am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if anyone has any prompts they want filling then I'd love it if you'd send it my way :) I want to try writing some shorter things, to get a bit more used to it  
> @lazarus-is-risen and again, thanks for reading :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while again, mock exams. Ridiculous things. Writer's block, also ridiculous. Patently silly.
> 
> You may also have noticed the change in username. Basically, someone irl has found this and I'll be damned if they read the bloody thing, so I've changed my username and soon I'm going to change the name of the fic itself. I didn't really like it all that much anyway, but it's irritating to have to do all of this, at the risk of confusing people and losing readership because they don't recognise the username or fic name, because some twat has decided that invading my privacy to mock something I've spent hours on is absolutely hilarious.
> 
> So yeah, please be aware that this is now me and the name is not going to be sticking around for much longer. I'll try to make it clear in the description that it's the same thing when it changes, and I'm sorry to mess anyone around :)

It only took about a month for Kylo to contract cabin fever. He was still euphoric from copious amounts of Hux and being near Hux and being able to tell Hux he loved him and being able to have Hux tell him he loved him back, but that didn’t stop the onset of pent up energy frustratingly resting permanently in his limbs. Potential energy that had no outlet or freedom other than a twitch or bouncing leg, muscles which had had months of near constant compulsive use suddenly put into disuse. He’d never tell Hux of course, didn’t want him to think he was unhappy here with him. He didn’t want to upset Hux, but Hux didn’t really need to be told to see the change in Kylo’s demeanour that told him he really needed to give the man an outlet before he either exploded or imploded under his own weight.

Kylo, it seemed, still quite liked Phasma. He seemed to give her a sort of curious respect which made her stand out from anyone else who was brought into the house, others still eliciting a skittish, nervous reaction which seemed entirely out of place on a man with the physical strength and huge stature of Kylo. Hux therefore came to what he thought was the logical conclusion that Kylo could do with spending some time with her, as an assistant or bodyguard or imposing-looking guy standing behind her and looking intimidating; anything to give him some mental stimulation and stop his mind collapsing.

He’d been somewhat wary of it at first, trying desperately to push away the voices in the back of his mind telling him that he was about to get used and thrown away again. Hux wouldn’t do that, Hux loved him. He eventually got into the swing of it, finding that he quite enjoyed the variation it brought to his daily routine, and he liked getting to know Phasma a bit better. She knew everything about him that she should without him having to retell it to her, all while not talking to him as though she was stepping on eggshells around some unstable basket case who could crack at any minute. It took her time to get used to him, but she seemed to trust him somewhat, being open with him about everything from things he would assume to be classified to her personal life, her relationship with his cousin. He felt guilty about Rey and his lack of contact with her now, but he tried to reason that it was a mutual thing, his choice was to be with Hux and hers was to refuse to go anywhere near the man. Her choice.

Today seemed to be going exactly as they usually did; so far he’d spent some time sat in Phasma’s office with her pouring over emails and photographs and messages from the various sections and groups within the payroll of the Hux family empire. Reports back about smuggling ventures, status updates on various information extractions, undercover jobs, etcetera etcetera. Kylo couldn’t pretend to be greatly interested in the specifics, happy enough to just fetch her cups of tea and write down her schedule. Today they were meant to be meeting with some police chief or something along those lines. Kylo just appreciated the free coffee and the chance to make himself useful by looking intimidating and sneering at the right moment to elicit the correct response from whoever it was.

Apparently Rey had started asking for a puppy. That would be nice, he agreed, but also a big responsibility for people who were busy all day, he also agreed. Kylo liked dogs. He’d seen a big brown one with long ears being walked the other day, he’d really liked that one. A German Longhair, apparently. He quite liked the idea of getting one, but Phasma reminded him that Millicent might not take quite so kindly to one. That was a good point.

Phasma was busy trying to find just the right photo of a Duck Tolling Retriever to show Kylo when her phone started ringing, making him almost jump and her roll her eyes. Now was not the right time, she told him as though he understood deeply.

“You’ve got some bloody nerve, what are you calling me for? You know I have to keep this open in case something truly important comes up… I said truly important. Mitaka, I do value your input, highly so, but I honestly mean important-” He watched intently and with a spike of worry as her face suddenly dropped. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you? Honestly?” She paused again, biting her lip. “Well you can bring him over here, it’ll take me some time to cancel my schedule. Be here in twenty minutes.” Kylo tilted his head in a silent question as she ended the call and stared into the middle-distance.

“Are you alright?” Phasma snapped back to the present and looked up at him, almost in shock at being brought back to again.

“Yeah, I just need you to help me cancel and rearrange the rest of today.” He nodded slowly and began dictating appointments and contact details for her to email her apologies to en masse.

* * *

 

Kylo couldn’t help the jitteriness that seemed to come over him as he sat next to Phasma on her drawing room sofa, hunched over in contrast to her laid back stance, her with expensive cigar to hand. Mitaka sat off to the side looking pleased with himself, like a puppy after they’ve fetched a stick, waiting to be told what a good boy they are and be given a pat on the head. Opposite them, however, was a less cheerful sight. Finn looked uncomfortable and out of place, stuck between wishing to be anywhere but where he was and wanting to get something over and done with.

“So why have you suddenly decided to change your allegiance? I’m struggling to know whether to trust you here, Finn. Believe me, I want to. But it all seems so sudden.” Her voice was sultry and serpentine, venomous at the edges, hiding a desperate need for the truth, and desire for this to be it.

“It might seem sudden, Ma’am, but it’s anything but sudden. This has been a consideration of mine for quite some time, it just took a final push to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“And what, may I ask, was that final push?”

“He has always been unpredictable, sadistic. However recently he seems to have somehow become more irrational. Not that I was close to him, it just… trickles down the ranks. Information, that is, Ma’am.” Phasma nodded as Finn looked up, searching for signs of belief in his words or approval, Kylo reckoned. “And he’s started… Picking people off. Higher-ups, average run-of-the-mill grunts. We’re seen as modern-day cannon-fodder though, so it possibly shouldn’t be that surprising, but I was just tired of it.”

“So instead you decide to put yourself more in the line of fire by coming to us? I’m not entirely sure that you're making sense, here.” A twitch of panic flickered across his face.

“I want to help, Ma’am. This is the lesser of two evils, the greater being to let him and those who work for him to continue unchecked… He’s becoming increasingly vicious, and I’m not prepared to sit back and play along.”

“I’ll bite; what exactly is it you have for me anyway?” At this point Kylo zoned out, lost in the dialogue which seemed nonsensical to him. He had no idea who this mysterious man was, and was too tired to bother trying. Honestly, he wanted to go back to bed, let Milly flop on his chest while he slept in the middle of the day.

One word did catch his interest though, a name which managed to bring about a faint fuzzy sickness in the pit of his stomach and made him sit up, drawing attention from everyone in the room to him.

“Ky, what’s wrong?” Phasma’s arm draped across his back but his eyes remained on the man opposite him.

“Say that again.” A moment passed as Finn hesitated.

“He goes by Snoke, but no one knows whether that’s his name or just a title.”

“It’s his surname. Virgil Snoke.” Phasma’s hand froze, gripping harshly onto his shoulder as she turned to face him with teeth that suddenly reminded him of an alligator.

“And how would you know that, Kylo?” He only glanced sideways, certain he couldn’t move more of himself if he tried. It took him a moment to decide what to say and still he managed to stumble messily over his words.

“He… He’s the one who… Who owned me. Sold me to Hux.” Her face softened as she appeared to be taken aback, but there was still an element of suspicious confusion in her eyes.

“And you haven’t mentioned that yet?”

“I didn't know who he was. Still don’t really, still confused. Forgot his name until he mentioned it again.” His eyes were fixed on the floor as he spoke, hoping to God that he hadn’t screwed up. He didn’t want to upset anyone, he wanted to be good and useful. He wanted Phasma to like him and he wanted to show Hux how he’d made the right decision, but it sounded as though he’d screwed up royally. Bad idea. Didn’t want to do that. He let his back drop and buried his face in his knees. “Sorry, ‘m sorry.”

* * *

 

“So you’re telling me that the bastard who fucked him up like that, who I met at a slave auction of all places, is the man behind First Order?”

“Seems to be that way, Sir. I was wary of believing this Finn, but now I’m inclined to think he was telling the truth considering how Kylo has effectively corroborated his story. He seems torn up about it, though. I think I was a bit harsh with him. I did rather jump to conclusions.” Hux looked across to the black-clad lump of man on his sofa, curled up with his face in Millicent’s fur. Poor thing.

“Natural reaction, Phas. I’m having difficulty wrapping my head around it now. Anyway, you better go and tie up any loose ends from today, I’ll see what I can get him to tell me.” She nodded and he gave her her leave, though he noticed the pitiful expression she shot Kylo. He was glad the man hadn’t seen it; he’d hate to know she pitied him.

He quietly approached the sofa and sat down in the gap next to Kylo’s chest where he was bent around to allow his knees to curl up underneath the blanket that was covering him and ran his hand through his hair. Kylo let out a high-pitched whine, pushing his head up into Hux’s hand and inadvertently letting him see his tear-stained face. He was undoubtedly doing better and yet he was still so fragile. Hux could already feel a cold, calculating dislike for the man at the helm of First Order begin to morph itself into a searing hatred for the beast that damaged his Ren.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise i-” Kylo’s words were swiftly halted by the press of soft lips against his own, a hand gripping his hair and holding him gently in place. Hux’s tongue pressed against the seal between his lips and was allowed in, Kylo happy to let this one person close enough to hurt him in the knowledge that he would do no such thing. Kylo’s arm ran up and down Hux’s side, filled with ecstatic energy that he just didn’t know what to do with. LoveloveloveloveloveHuxloveshimhelovesHux.

He let Hux pull back from him, panting and trying to remind himself to breathe next time.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’ll catch him, Kylo. He’ll be sorry. I promise he’ll be sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://media.giphy.com/media/FBWUThsXrmfDO/giphy.gif
> 
> ^^^
> 
> I want to say thank you so much to everyone who's been so kind over the last few months. I never replied to the comments because I didn't want to become a broken record and seem dishonest when really every one has meant so much to me. I've decided to carry on with this because frankly, the aforementioned twat can either take the piss for something half-done or something complete. I'm damned either way as far as he's concerned so I might as well just get on with it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm so sorry for keeping people hanging and thank you for still reading :)

A person can gain a huge amount of power simply through their ability to become more of an idea than human. You can only attack a concept through the realm of ideas, which is hardly going to damage the person behind it so long as they remain removed physically from confrontation. Concepts can live forever, if they have enough cannon fodder to send out in their place.

This had been Hux’s problem since he’d been sent out to New York four years ago, sent by his father to chase an incredibly elusive concept called Virgil Snoke, charged with getting rid of him before returning home to his father in Kent or, as he would much prefer, London, where he could avoid Brendol for as long as was humanly possible. The man would never dare set foot in the city.

He’d wanted to be here for six months at most, however due to the sheer impossibility of finding the bastard, and of course Kylo Ren, something that his father was entirely unaware of, he'd ended up staying there for eight times as long as he'd intended. However now it seemed that the latter was turning out to be twice the blessing, in a very roundabout way. Snoke thrived on his status as a faceless idea but now, Hux knew what he was looking for. Some looming monster of a man, tall yet frail with a sunken face. Someone who had almost destroyed the man Hux loved, but who he now could snap like a dry twig. Ideas could hide forever, humans can’t.

 

* * *

 

“I never saw it from the outside. Was never allowed past the door.” Kylo was sat on the sofa, hunched over, almost bent in half with his hair hiding his face.

“But you saw everything inside?” He nodded. “Could you remember it now? Maybe draw a map of the inside layout?” He looked up at Hux and shuddered, glancing quickly to the other man in the room who was hiding partly behind the doorway. Finn. He seemed nice enough, he had a kind face but he was still connected to his old Master. Snoke, he was now called, but Kylo still reflexively felt sick thinking of him as his name rather than “Master”, his hindbrain still waiting for punishment for his insubordination.

“That’d be useful?”

“Very.” Hux looked at him with hopeful, pleading eyes that Kylo couldn’t ever remember being looked at with by anyone, let alone the most powerful man he knew. He had to admit, this feeling of being needed by Hux was an adrenaline rush of warmth to his chest that felt so, so good. He nodded and was handed a pencil and a notebook and forced himself to remember everything that he’d tried to forget.

He started at the front door that he’d knelt in front of daily on pain of being whipped until he bled then forced onto his open back with his legs spread by forceful hands. Kitchen where he’d never dared to eat because he became too strong when he hit a healthy weight, living room where his skeletal, torn back became Master’s footstool, bathroom where he made himself as pretty as a hideous beast could be, basement with the table master strapped him to when he spoke or moved out of place, bedroom. He could feel his hand shake, the lines he drew quivering as his breathing became sporadic and laboured. He jumped as he felt something on his back, taking a second to remember that it was Hux. Lovely, beautiful Hux, Hux who’d saved him and who he still didn’t really deserve. Hux who pulled his head into his chest and held him there, listening to his heartbeat and trying to breathe in time with it.

“It’s ok. You’re alright. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” His voice was quiet, only just above whispering. Hux never shouted at him.

“ ‘m almost done.” He mumbled against his chest. “Want to help you.”

“You have helped me. More than you know, dallin.” He liked it when Hux called him that. It sounded like such a contrast from his usual impeccable speech. He’d said once that his mother used to say it, the Irish one, not his step-mother, and that it had just stayed with him. He quite liked that, he seemed happy when he talked about her so it must be a good sign. “Thank you.”

Kylo pushed himself up, determined to finish the damn thing, and added in the final few rooms and the sparse bit of outside he’d seen when Snoke opened the door each night. He sat and let Hux stroke his hair as he looked over Kylo’s work.

“I need to send this to someone. Will you be alright if I leave you for a few minutes? It won’t be long.” He hummed a positive response but was as ever still feeling slightly lost when he was no longer surrounded by the warmth of Hux’s body wrapped around his. He pulled the blanket that had been resting over the top of the sofa around him in a poor imitation of it and sat silently for a moment with his eyes closed until he heard movement close to him and instantly snapped them open again, a well-practised fight-or-flight response rising to the forefront of his mind. Finn stood close by holding his hand out, palm facing away from him as though placating a growling dog.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice sounded wary and with a hint of pity hidden in it.

“I’m not an animal in a shelter. I’m not going to get scared and bite you.” He may have hardly been considered a man but he was trying, goddamnit, he didn’t want pity.

He watched as Finn recoiled, obviously surprised by his level of autonomy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be condescending, I just didn’t want to upset you. Mind if I sit down?” Kylo shrugged and shut his eyes again. This man could do whatever he wanted so long as he didn’t touch him. “I had no idea First Order was into… I guess it’s called trafficking.” Silence fell between them again as Kylo didn’t so much as twitch. What did this guy want from this? Some acknowledgement that Kylo didn’t think he was “one of the bad ones”? He didn’t. He had no medals to give out, but would admit that he was still bitter. “If I knew I would have done something, honestly.”

“Ok.”

“Half the people in there aren’t there because they want to be. I didn’t want to be involved at all. I made a stupid mistake and there wasn’t a lot I could really do about it.” Kylo opened his eyes to a kind of pained look on his kind face. He’d never even considered that some of Snoke’s cannon fodder weren’t there because they chose to be. It seemed bizarre.

“What did you do then?”

“I hot-wired a car. Nice one as well. I was only young, too young to not be stupid. Obviously I got caught by its owner who told me I could either go to the police or work for him. Since found out he worked for Snoke and once you’re in there’s no real way out. They’ve got you over a barrel. Not that it compares to what happened to you,” Kylo flinched “but it was still awful.” Finn looked up a second before he heard steps on the wooden floor and Hux reappeared in the door frame, phone in hand as he was seemingly closing the conversation he’d been having while watching Kylo and this new outsider.

“Thank you Finn, you’ve been very useful. Don’t worry, you’ll be reimbursed for your services; we’ll be in touch. That’s all.” Finn made warm eye contact with Kylo for a moment before being walked to the door by Hux.

Kylo felt his heart pound as the graceful man quietly returned to the room, moving to kneel in front of Kylo and taking a hand in each of his. He kissed the back of each of Kylo’s hands, followed by a trail of light kisses up each arm before he sat back on his haunches and moved a hand to the thick hair at the back of Kylo’s head.

“What ever did I do to deserve you?” His voice was low and Kylo swore he could feel it in his bones, sending electricity up and down his spine.

“Did I do good?” His own voice was barely above a whisper.

“Very good. So, so good.” He brought his hand around to hold his jaw gently. “My good boy.” Kylo closed his eyes as his face was brought forward, breathing sharply in through his nose when he felt soft lips touch his, his hands clenching and unclenching in the air as he had no idea what do do with or where to put them. He whined as Hux pulled away from him, a light smirk on his face. “So sweet, aren’t you?” He stood up and fear and frustration rushed through Kylo. He can’t have disappointed him already, could he? Not when he wanted him so badly after so long. “Are you coming upstairs then?” Fear and frustration was soon replaced by relief and a hot, pleasantly burning sensation at the bottom of his stomach as he scrabbled against the blanket to stand up and followed Hux upstairs into what was now their shared bedroom and watched as Hux carefully undressed and neatly folded his clothes. God, he was even graceful when he did that, unlike Kylo who was still an ugly mess, even if a slightly less gangly one than he once was. But if Hux wanted him regardless of that, then Hux would have him. He loved him, and that was that.

Hux’s body was all smooth planes and smooth skin, pale mostly but covered in parts by freckles that were far more beautiful than the moles Kylo himself had. Hux was a work of art, while he was a poor attempt at one. He was so, so lucky that this beautiful man wanted him, but he still couldn’t stop himself from hunching over with crossed arms, hiding as much of himself as possible while Hux stretched out on the bed like a cat in sunlight. He smiled before rolling over onto his stomach and opening his eyes to see Kylo, his smile quickly disappearing. Oh God, this was it. He’d come to his senses and realise that he was worth far more than some hideous used-up whore and he’d kick him out, send him back to his parents. He was a basket-case regardless, oh God, oh God, oh God.

Kylo flinched when he felt the back of Hux’s hand on his crossed arm. Hux moved so he was kneeling on the bed in front of him, leaving him at around the same height and softly placed one hand on his shoulder and one on the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong, love? Do you not want to? You can say no, I’m so sorry for over-stepping your boundaries.”

“I want to. Really really want to.” Hux tilted his head with his brows furrowed but not in the cruel way he was expecting.

“Then what’s wrong? You’re upset.” He leaned up to kiss Kylo’s forehead.

“You’re so beautiful. I’m not, ‘m used. You’ll realise and you won’t want me anymore.” Hux felt a cold spark cut him as he watched Kylo sob. He was physically so strong that Hux sometimes did have to remind himself that this man was still so fragile.

“That’s not true, Kylo. You’re so gorgeous. Striking, like some Roman God.” He ran his index finger along the slope of Kylo’s nose before leaning in to kiss the tip of it and wiped away his tears with his thumbs, his hands holding either side of his head. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He moved his hands to hold Kylo’s own, working them out of the tight barrier he’d made cross himself with his arms and pulled him towards the bed until he had to climb onto it on his knees. Hux kissed the crook of his neck before making his way across his chest and to the other side of his neck, then returning to his lips slightly more forcefully and pressing his tongue against the seam of Kylo’s lips and pushing in, revelling in the moan this brought from his shy creature who had wrapped his arms around Hux’s back and was holding onto his shoulder blades.

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Kylo panted as he nodded quickly, squeaking when he was pushed onto his back with Hux straddling him and running his hands up and down his sides before moving his head down to his thighs, kissing them gently before sucking on the skin of his groin. Kylo didn’t get it, what was he doing? This wasn’t how it worked. He should already be in him by now.

“Hux, wh-” He was cut off when Hux lifted his head again and shushed him with a smirk, before returning his head to his crotch, this time kissing the head of his dick, then licking a stripe from its base to its tip. Kylo screamed.

“Christ, how long’s it been since you touched this?” He looked predatory but somehow still warm as Kylo shook his head with wide eyes.

“Never.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Honestly?”

“Not allowed. He said it would make me useless. Tried once or twice but he punished me for it, so I never did it again.” Hux took a few seconds to breathe before returning to what he was doing, this time taking the head into his mouth and sucking, before running his tongue along the urethra, making Kylo writhe underneath him. “Hux, Hux Huxhuxhuxhuxhux, gonna-” He whined in frustration when he could no longer feel the tightness of Hux’s mouth but was soon quieted by lips on his again, if only for a moment. He pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could see Hux go to retrieve a bottle from a bedside drawer then move back so that he was seated between Kylo’s spread legs. He squirted some lube from the bottle onto the palm of his hand and covered his fingers in it and moved to push his index finger inside Kylo. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing you. Need to get you stretched so it doesn’t hurt.” The entirely confused look on the larger man’s face didn’t miss him.

“Why?’

“Well… Because I don’t want to hurt you or damage you.”

“But if it’s better if I’m tighter-”

“It’s better if you enjoy it with me, dallin’, I promise.” He pushed his anger out of his voice. When he caught that bastard he could be as angry as he wanted, but for now he had to restrain himself. Focus on teaching Kylo that he was, in fact, lovable, not simply some damaged toy ready to be played with again.

Kylo gasped as he felt Hux push his first finger inside him. It felt strange, but not the searing pain he remembered when his old Master would force himself in at once. He felt Hux pull out before returning with a second finger, which took a moment for him to get used to. It wasn’t actually bad, and if it made Hux happy then he was happy. He felt him move his fingers about inside him before he shrieked and flailed his arms around, grabbing hold of a pillow and crushing it against his chest as lightning bolts moved through him.

“What did you do?” He was panting heavily as Hux held himself completely still.

“That’s your prostate. It’s what makes this actually pleasurable.” He looked at him with kind eyes. “It’s not just about the person on my end.” He said as he moved his fingers against that spot again, making him hiss in pleasure, whining as he felt Hux draw his hand back again before pushing a third finger in and scissoring them apart until Kylo was entirely comfortable with them. He pulled his fingers out and coated himself in lube, lining himself up before slowly pushing in as Kylo bit down on his pillow to stop himself from making his throat raw from screaming. Finally Hux was fully seated inside of him, and he leaned forward to kiss Kylo’s forehead.

“I love you. My good boy.” Kylo could feel his entire body heat, thinking he could just about melt into Hux’s arms. Hux loved him. He loved him.

“Love you too.” He wrapped his arms around the ginger’s back and held onto him for dear life as he began rocking forwards and backwards, stroking that electric thing inside him each time until he felt something pool in his stomach as Hux’s thrusts became more erratic. He mewled as his hand snaked down to grasp his dick and stroke in time with the thrusts into him, releasing white onto his stomach and catching his breath while Hux caught up with him, coming inside him before collapsing down next to him.

Kylo turned himself onto his side and buried his face into Hux’s chest, slipping into unconscious bliss while Hux stroked his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still @lazarus-is-risen on tumblr where I shitpost to my little heart's content


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the wandering minstrel returns from stressing about her education. We're on the home stretch, lads.  
> Also, if anyone fancies being my best friend and giving this a beta-read before I leave it in its final form then pls hit me up

Hux was fully aware of his strengths and his weaknesses; he had a sharp, analytical mind which was perfect for strategising, but also the muscle-mass off a window sill. Direct physical confrontation was never going to be his ideal situation and so he waited, watching intently through the link between his laptop and the camera situated on Phasma’s chest as her and ten other equally as strong and menacing people stormed Virgil Snoke’s immense residence in the Hamptons.

Hux would almost say he was disappointed with how easy it was for them, possibly an anti-climax considering how long he’d spend waiting for this. The man was older than he remembered from the auction, however, considering how his attentional field had been focussed on Kylo that day, he didn’t blame himself for getting a few details wrong. He watched as the man was overpowered with relative ease and tied to a chair, whilst a number of Hux’s employees combed the building for alarms that needed to be destroyed. He couldn’t say he was surprised when they found an emaciated boy, probably around the age of seventeen, shaking under Snoke’s bed. Although unsurprised, Hux still couldn’t help the wave of anger-fuelled nausea that hit his stomach.

He turned to Kylo, who was watching the screen unmoving, as Phasma gave him a signal that it was all clear and closed the laptop’s lid. Kylo’s attention snapped up to him.

“So, are you coming with me?” Kylo’s eyes dropped from Hux’s and he appeared to be staring into nothingness for a moment. Hux lifted his hand to stroke his partner’s cheekbone with his thumb, the rest of his fingers tangled in his long hair. “I won’t make you do anything. Or stop you, in this instance. Whichever the case may be.” He made a point to keep his voice soft regardless of his bubbling anger.

Kylo nodded slowly.

“I want to come. I want to see him now he can’t control me.” Hux couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“I’ll be there with you.”

He opened the door to the car they were sat in and gracefully stepped out into the darkness of the early morning, before turning to offer a hand to Kylo. He slammed the door behind them and locked it, as ever enjoying the satisfying click as he strode across the road with Kylo’s hand still in his, and his trench-coat fanning out in the wind behind him. He had to admit his vanity in that he’d dressed for the occasion; the completion of his mission in America demanded his best suit, particularly when it was going to inevitably be as satisfying as this was. He was still undecided as to quite how he was going to kill the man, whether it was to be a quick shot through the head or a somewhat more gruesome death from the switchblade he kept in his suit jacket’s sleeve. Either one would be over too soon, as far as he was concerned. His hair shifting in the wind was a relatively new sensation; Kylo had declared that he preferred it in its soft, un-gelled state, his hands being able to run through it better, and Hux had to admit that it wasn’t so bad, now he was starting to get used to the look of it. If it kept Kylo happy, he’d do it.

 

* * *

 

Kylo froze as he stepped through the door, his hand being tugged as Hux continued his pace without realising he’d stopped. He lifted his free arm up, the back of his hand gliding over the wall. He glanced back at the opulent entrance. His mind flashed to the feeling of cowering into the wall, the smell of burning food filling him with fear. He pushed it from his head and carried on, his thumb rubbing the back of Hux’s hand to allay the concern in his eyes. He wondered how many times in the last few years that the teenager he’d seen on the laptop screen had felt the same.

He shut his eyes and let Hux lead him upstairs, avoiding memories of the other rooms they passed. He was going to be strong now; Hux was with him and it was his time to not be scared anymore. The tables were entirely turned in his favour.

Kylo kept a straight face as his vision was flooded with memories of the bedroom they had stepped into as Phasma and her subordinates left, Hux letting go of his hand before they passed the threshold; he hoped Hux was proud of him.

“Virgil! Good to see you again. How long’s it been? Almost four years now, if I remember rightly.” It was almost a year since Kylo had returned to living with Hux, but he’d only realised that once Hux had said it. It made him feel like he had butterflies in his stomach again. Hux did that a lot. “Ah, wait. How rude of me to not introduce my friend; I wonder if you might recognise him?” Hux stepped sideways so that Kylo and his old captor were no longer obscured from each other’s views, and beckoned Kylo forward a step whilst reaching to pull the cloth gag from his mouth. “Go on; do you recognise him?” Kylo watched with a raised eyebrow and a steel face as Hux kicked a chair leg, leaving Snoke wobbling precariously.

“Can’t say that I do, Armitage.” His voice was weaker than he remembered.

“Come now, don’t lie to me.” Silence fell across the room again until Hux shrugged his shoulders and pulled out his handgun, moving as if he was about to load it. Kylo knew he was bluffing; if he wanted him dead by now, he’d be dead.

“Alright! I do recognise him!” The man bit out, causing Hux to smile and place his gun back in its holster.

“Very good.” Kylo registered the condescension in his voice, like that of a man praising his dog for sitting on its hind legs to beg. “Virgil Snoke, meet Kylo Ren. He’s looking a lot better now, wouldn’t you say? Looks good with some weight on him.” Kylo glanced over to Hux who was now leaning on the wall as though he was entirely bored with the conversation; a facade, he was well aware.

“I disagree. He looks as much of a worthless slut now as he did when he was in my care, just with delusions of grandeur.” Hux raised an eyebrow at that, unwilling to step in where Kylo might resent him for later; he didn’t want to take away the one chance of revenge the other man would likely ever have. This was his call, however much Hux would have loved to slit his throat there and then. He noticed Kylo’s slight flinch, his shoulders shifting back fractionally.

“Really? How disappointing.”

A sneer formed across Snoke’s thin lips. Kylo had never known his first name was Virgil; he’d simply always been his omnipresent, omniscient Master. “Are you happy now, Ren? Now that you’ve swapped one master for another? Do you enjoy being a lapdog?” Kylo glanced over to Hux again, having to hold himself still to avoid shaking as he looked for some form of guidance and receiving a confusing nod in response. “He’s still fucking you, since that’s all that you’re good for and you know it. He knows it.” Kylo saw Hux’s face twitch with anger in his peripheral vision. “Does he tell you he loves you?” Sickness was building up in his stomach.

“Yes.”

“He’s lying. You know that no one could love you; you weren’t made for that.” Kylo nodded, his head dropping as his ears started buzzing with similar words that he’d heard so many times. “There, you know your place really. Come here.” He moved towards the man on the chair, his heart pounding in his chest while his mind screamed at him to turn the other way.

Hux’s anxiety was building rapidly and a seeping dread began to wash through him that he’d overestimated Kylo’s recovery and dropped him in the deep end far too early. His hand had a slight tremor as he reached for his handgun, but froze with his hand on its grip as he watched his partner fall to his knees at the feet of the man who had held him captive for eight years, destroyed his childhood and almost managed the same with the remainder of his life. Oh fuck, Hux had failed him; ruined four years of progress in one moment, with one awful decision. He went to move forwards but was again stopped by what seemed to be a power out of his control, though he knew was probably a failed fight-or-flight response, as Snoke’s mocking laugh cut through the air and he stared into Armitage’s eyes.

“I knew it. You’ve been lost without me, haven’t you? With so many years at my feet I suppose you floundered under the control of a lesser man. I suppose he’s been too soft on you; you never were happy unless I fucked you until you tore apart.” The whimper that this drew from Kylo felt like knives in Hux’s stomach.

“That’s enough! Ky, come away-”

“But you’re a good whore really, you know your pla-”

A gunshot was followed by the sound of gagging. Hux lurched forward and grasped Kylo with a hand on either side of his abdomen, pulling him backwards just in time to avoid the blood that poured out of Virgil Snoke’s mouth onto his lap. He eased the gun out of Kylo’s shaking hand and aimed it at the bastard’s head, making the final shot and then removing the magazine before throwing it to the other side of the room and pulling Kylo’s head to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Ky, I’m so sorry.” He was whispering. The man on his lap shifted, moving so his face was pressed into Hux’s chest. His tears were soaking through his dress shirt but Hux couldn’t care less, wrapping his arms around Kylo’s shoulders.

“ S’ok. M’ fine.” They sat in silence for a moment, both struggling to process their mixed emotions as their heart rates returned to normal and their breathing slowed, in time with each other. “I love you.”

Hux left his his head fall, his face buried in Kylo’s hair and his eyes heavy-lidded and shut.

“Love you too.”

 

* * *

 

It took a week for Kylo to get out of bed, and Hux couldn’t say he blamed him. If he wasn’t dealing with the aftermath then he’d have done the same in all likelihood.

For the next few days, the media had been awash with stories of the tragic accident that was the house fire of the home of Virgil J. Snoke, a man in the early stages of old age and who tended to keep to himself. Sadly, the home was so secluded that there were no neighbours there to call the fire service to stop the blaze before the house was completely destroyed, killing the old man inside as he slept.

It was a satisfactory story, as far as Hux was concerned. The police department and coroners were paid off, and it went without a hitch. No one seemed to comment on the disappearance of various other men including Lucas Weis, Felix Barrera and Leo Valle, or the rather sizeable coincidence of these occurring on the same night. What could he say; Hux was good at his job.

Brendol had called him back to England.

Hux had almost been excited to phone him the day after Snoke’s death; he had achieved what his father had wanted him to, proven that he wasn’t useless by finally, after four years of work, taking down the most elusive enemy his family had had. He’d phoned him at the time given to him by his father’s secretary, hopeful about what he might hear, until Brendol picked up.

There was no emotion to his voice. No “well done” or any other positive encouragement, no verbal pat on the back for a job well done. There was no appreciation for a son who had spent over four years of his life chasing a spectre for the sake of his father’s approval. He got an order to sort his affairs in the US and return to Britain as soon as was possible.

Hux’s body went cold as he hung up, barely moving for half an hour before he stood up from his desk chair and climbed the stairs to his bedroom and crept into bed with all the stealth he could manage. He curled towards Kylo’s warmth and willed himself to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat helped me write this:  
> http://lazarus-is-risen.tumblr.com/post/172006736528/pest  
> http://lazarus-is-risen.tumblr.com/post/172007321031/cinnamon-bun


	24. Chapter 24

Hux sat in silence, his hand placed on Kylo’s thigh in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He could sense the anxious buzz flowing through his partner’s body, his other knee bouncing up and down and his voice slipping into a slight stammer every now and then; there were moments when Hux had to hold himself back from finishing words for him when he struggled over them in his nervousness. They’d agreed that Hux would take a back seat during this conversation with Kylo’s parents in an attempt to avoid any conclusions being jumped to regarding the nature of their relationship, since with Han and Leia’s view of him was already rocky as it was, so he remained silent with his head bowed.

“Ben, you haven’t thought this through. Three-and-a-half-thousand miles away! On your own, with him!” Hux didn’t react as she gestured at him dismissively, venom still lacing her words.

“I’ve thought it through more than enough. And it’s only seven hours there, eight hours back, it’s not really that far. Besides; what do you mean, “with him”? What more can you possibly expect from him, that would change how you feel about him? Don’t you think he’s done enough by now?” His tone was becoming sharper, clearly losing his temper with the situation. Kylo’s parents had found out about the death of their son’s captor not long after it had hit the local news headlines, and they were aware that the event was somehow connected to Hux although they had no idea quite how directly. Hux intended for them to never find out. They already saw him as being dangerous enough. He began rubbing circles into Kylo’s thigh with his thumb as he waited for the next voice.

“We only want the best for you. That’s all we’ve ever wanted, son.” Han Solo’s gruff voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“I…” Hux glanced towards Kylo and watched as the other gathered his thoughts. He was getting much better at slowly and calmly collecting himself in stressful situations and sometimes Hux struggled to reconcile the man sat next to him with the quivering wreck of a creature he’d carried out of the boot of his car, which was something he was oddly thankful for, but which he knew hadn’t come at all easily to Kylo. He was so proud of him. “I know you do. And I do … get why you’re worried. I can’t prove to you that he’s a good person, I just know that he is.” Hux felt his face heat up. He was unsure about that one; he wasn’t exactly the epitome of a good Christian, but he loved Kylo and was determined to be good to him, which he would say counted in his favour. “And it’s not like they don’t have wifi in the UK; I’m sure Rey’ll show you how FaceTime works?”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t be losing me, Mom.” Silence fell around the room as Kylo’s head dropped and his breathing consciously slowed. Hux looked towards him with concern, draping an arm over his shoulders in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture and not missing one second of the burning glare Leia was aiming at him.

“Ma’am, I understand your concern,” He admittedly couldn’t quite stop himself; Kylo had seemingly run out of ideas, and the silence was beginning to burn his nerves. It was still taking a backseat, he just couldn’t stand it for much longer. “Of course I do. Neither of us are expecting you to like me. In fact, if anything I would be surprised if you did given the circumstances. But this isn’t about me, it’s about Ben. Would you not want to start again somewhere that doesn’t hold memories like New York does for him?” He was doing his best to appeal to Leia and Han but was fully aware of how he was lacking in likability. He was certain that he grated on people at the best of times, but he was working on it; he didn’t want everyone he met to instantly perceive him as an emotionless shark anymore, least of all these two.

“Don’t you “Ma’am” me, you bastard,” Hux couldn’t help but recoil. “I know what your endgame is; isolate him and you can do whatever you want to him because you know you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.”

“No, honestly-” he hadn’t heard his voice waver for years.

“Just shut up! You’re nothing but a viper, dripping poison into my son’s ear! So you’ve become homesick, you want to run back to Mommy and Daddy for a pat on the back, taking Ben with you like some prize animal in a cage?” He saw Kylo sit up in his peripheral vision and felt him wrap his arm around Hux’s back and grip his waist. He was glad Kylo could move; he himself felt suddenly frozen, seven years old again and face to face with a screaming adult.

“Mom, stop it.”

“You can stop defending him as well, Ben-”

“There’s nothing to defend. Contrary to popular belief I’m not a child, I can make decisions. Besides, you know nothing about him so you can stop acting like you do.” Hux nervously kept his eyes on Leia, noticing every slight twitch her body made involuntarily as her son spoke and after, as silence returned for a moment. He couldn’t help but glance across to Han and flinch when they inadvertently made eye-contact across the room.

“You’re not a child and your father and I know that, but you’re still vulnerable, Ben, and- I’m sorry, it seems that your friend here is in high demand.” Hux started as he realised that it was his ringtone he could hear and went to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was on silent, I’ll just-” Brendol. Of course it was Brendol, with his impeccably perfect timing.

“You should take it.” He looked up at Kylo who was looking at his screen over his shoulder.

“No, it can wait.”

“Hux, take the call. It’ll only be worse later if you don’t.”

Han was out of his seat and halfway across the room already, offering to take him outside, to which Hux nodded numbly and followed him out with his phone pressed to his ear. He whispered his thanks as the call connected.

“No need to thank me, kid, glad to be out of there. Coulda cut that atmosphere with a rubber knife.” Han leaned on the corridor wall and closed his eyes as Hux heard his father’s voice.

“Is that really needed? Well no, I’m in public. No, not that public, but I’d still rather- Yes Father, give me a second.” He let his arm drop and hung up on the call, before opening Facetime. If his father was going to demand he use it the man should really have learned how to do so himself, he thought bitterly as he took a deep breath before tapping his father’s name.

“Better.” Hux wished he’d brought headphones. “Now you look at me, you brat,” He felt his face heat up as Han’s eyes fell on him. He shouldn’t have taken the call. “How much time and money have I wasted on raising you for you to turn around and throw it back in my face, hm? I always thought you were useless, but this is a new low, Armitage. You cannot abandon your duties like this.”

“Father, I’m sorry-”

“You will be sorry. And do you know what else you’ll be sorry for?” Hux felt like he was going to throw up as his stomach roiled. He shook his head, not trusting his voice. “I’ve heard some things about you, Armitage. You always were an embarrassment to look at, but I never thought you’d humiliate me like this.” He was silent for a beat, almost as though he was expecting his son to preempt his misdemeanour and throw himself to his knees in repentance. “You’re a faggot, aren’t you? Yes, I’ve heard all about you and your American _friend_ , you disgusting little creature. Not that it’s really your fault; those years spent knowing that whore mother of yours softened you. I should have dealt with you properly as soon as you came out of her, drowned you like you’re supposed to do with unwanted little bastard whelps,” he tried desperately to not let his now-erratic breathing show but it was becoming too much of an uphill battle as he watched Brendol’s vitriolic face spit out these practiced words with a new spin. “But I took pity on you, didn’t I? I took you in and raised you. But then I was too soft on you, too good to you. Maybe if I’d broken that arm of yours a few more times then you’d have toughened up and you wouldn’t be doing this to me. Am I correct?”

“Yes Sir. I’m sorry.” His voice was barely loud enough to be heard, but he reasoned that that would be preferable to it cracking like he could feel it trying to.

“We’re not done here.” Hux’s head dropped as he heard his father disconnect the call and he lifted his hand up to clasp his own forehead, not needing to hear Han shuffle awkwardly to be reminded that he, and probably Leia and Kylo, had almost certainly heard every word of his verbal thrashing. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Sir, that was impolite of me.”

“No need to be sorry, kid. Or call me Sir. Let’s go outside, you look like you could do with some fresh air.” Hux nodded as he let himself be directed out of the front door by the grip on his shoulder.

* * *

 

“What was that you were saying about Mommy and Daddy giving him a pat on the back?” Kylo bit out.

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Exactly. You know nothing about him.” Leia rolled her eyes as he stood up.

“What “duties” is he shirking, if I’m allowed to ask that?” He could tell she was genuinely intrigued even if her sentence was laden with sarcasm.

“It’s his job. He wasn’t exactly here, doing what he was doing, of his own volition, and he doesn’t want to do it any longer. He has a law degree; we were going to find somewhere to live where his father couldn’t be bothered to come and look for him and he was going to get an actual job with his degree. He can work out something to put down to avoid there being a huge gap in his CV, he can sort out a visa for me. He just doesn’t want anything to do with his father’s empire anymore.” He looked down to see that his mother’s face had softened considerably, so he moved towards her and kneeled down. “I want to marry him. I want to get a job and grow old with him and retire to the seaside. Neither of us has ever been normal, Mom, but that’s all we want and I hope you’ll understand that. I feel like I’ll be torn apart from the inside if I stay here. Please.”

He let his mother take his hand and hold it between both of hers, looking up into her warm brown eyes.

“You should go and make sure he’s alright. You know your father’s not the most tactful man.” He nodded as he stood up again, barely hearing the quiet “I love you” as he closed the door behind him and went out to Hux who was sitting with his back against the front door. He looked up at his father who, not for want of trying, was at a loss for what to do with the shaking soon-to-be-ex mob boss on his porch, and sat down next to him. Kylo wrapped his arms around him and pulled him onto his lap, letting him press his head against Kylo’s chest as sobs wracked through his thin body.

“It’s alright. I love you. You’ll survive, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'm on tumblr at @lazarus-is-risen  
> Beast of the week:[here](http://www.lazarus-is-risen.tumblr.com/post/172796030446/the-beast-wakes)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm an awful person lol


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